


Denmark and Norway's Diaries

by KiwiFruit07, Otaku67



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic, Implied Relationships, M/M, Marriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 82
Words: 55,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiFruit07/pseuds/KiwiFruit07, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku67/pseuds/Otaku67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transferred from our joint FanFiction account, RoseMatoBird, our most popular fan fiction: the DenNor Diaries! Denmark and Norway both keep private journals. Follow them through their lives as they flirt, fight, and fall in love. </p><p>*THIS STORY IS NOT GOING TO BE COMPLETED.* We have lots of ideas for future chapters, but we've sort of fallen out of the Hetalia fandom... We're very sorry. :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Denmark**

_Dear Journal,_

Today Norway sat across me at dinner. He kept glaring at me with those beautiful violet eyes of his. Why is he so damn sexy?! Oh! He’s reading in the chair across the room from me, and he MOVED HIS HAND! That _sexy_ hand. Hot hand. How I want to hold it…………

 

**Norway**

_Dear Diary,_

Why is he watching me? I’ll do something as simple as brush my hair out of my face, and he’ll grin and start writing in his stupid diary…I’m one to talk. He probably thinks I’m reading right now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

** Denmark **

_Dear ~~Diary~~ Journal,_

I went drinking with England and Prussia today…. Guess who I saw at the convenient store across from the bar? NORWAY! He had this adorkable little apron thing on, so I guess he started working there. Loser :)  I’ll finish this later, I’m hungover and nursing a Norway-inflicted wound.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

So as I was walking out of the store today, that idiot of a Dane was outside of the bar, probably drunk. Hell, I can’t tell when he’s drunk or sober. He’s annoying either way. So he tried getting within a five foot radius of me, breathing the same OXYGEN as me; naturally, I grabbed his tie and yanked down as hard as I could. He just never learns.


	3. Chapter 3

** Denmark **

_Dear ~~Di~~ Journal,_

Today I had to go to the store for… something. I won’t specify what. ANYHOO, when I walked out of my room, I saw Norway walk out of his! And guess what: that bitch was shirtless! _Shirtless!_ Damn I never wanna unsee that…… But then Sweden walked between us and I was sad. By the time he passed, Norway had slammed his door in my face :(

Then, at breakfast, we both reached for the same spoon. Our fingers almost touched, man!!! But then Norway slapped my hand away. Hurtful. BUT IT GETS BETTER. I followed him to work (he didn’t know, of course) and made it look like I was simply picking out bread. When I got over to the shelf… NORGE CAME OVER TOO. We are so in sync!!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Denmark can go to Hell. When I walked out of my room today, on my way to the bathroom to take a shower, he was staring at me. What’s wrong with him? Thankfully Sweden passed right by, giving me the perfect chance to slam my door in his face.

At breakfast, Brother Dearest wouldn’t talk to me for some reason. He talked to his puffin…That puffin is separating me from my brother.

Dane, too. He’s separating us. Jealous.


	4. Chapter 4

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary (screw it, diaries are masculine),_

Today I broke out of jail. England’s frenemy France told me that it isn’t considered drunk driving when it’s wine that you’re high on. That makes it legal, right? So since I’m so freakin’ clever, I labeled my beer “wine.” Unfortunately the cops didn’t buy it… But the first person I saw when I broke free was Norge! He looked upset so I gave him a biiiiiiiig hug. …I wish I was still in jail. Because now I’m in the hospital with a sprained spine. Silly Norge doesn’t like affection. </3

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

He broke out of jail? Idiot. He tried hugging me. Stupid. He shouldn’t have even gotten within my five foot radius. Tonight, he better watch it. I’m going to send my troll in after him while he’s sleeping. I don’t give a damn that’s he’s in the hospital, he needs to be punished more.


	5. Chapter 5

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Finally checked out of the hospital. I figured it would be a good idea to get back at Norge for crippling me again. And dumping all my beer. And hiding my ax. And my favorite coat. And my hat. And just plain being an ass. SO, I went to the store (with Norway’s wallet in my pocket) and bought an ass-ton of pregnancy tests. ‘Cause those things are fricking intimidating! I opened those babies up (no pun intended), and planted them all over Norge’s room, and his special bathroom, and even one in his box of Cheerios. He won’t expect THAT prize inside! Let’s hope it serves as a reminder of what might happen when he comes around and gets a taste of my Danishes, if you know what I mean ;)

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

WHAT THE HELL DOES HE THINK HE’S DOING?! PLANTING PREGNANCY TESTS ALL OVER MY ROOM?! They’re even in the bathroom…and when I poured my Cheerios this morning…one fell out of the box. He better watch out when I find him. I mean, what’s he going to do? He doesn’t have his ax. Nor does he have his jacket. Or beer. He should cave by sundown.

P.S. Why does Iceland refuse to call me Big Brother? I just don’t get his logic. He _promised_ me.


	6. Chapter 6

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So as I was planting pregnancy tests in Norge’s bathroom, I noticed that the paint on his walls was so _plain._ So I thought I’d, heh, do him a favor and spice it up a little! Prussia lent me a can of pink paint (he got it from France, who got it from England, who got it from America, who “borrowed” it from Russia, who stole it from Lithuania, who was holding it for Poland).

I came back the day after I loaded the place with pregnancy tests, which Norway obviously found because they were gone and he was glaring at me more than usual (which isn’t really a bad thing, I mean, he was staring at me all day!), and started to paint the ever-so-bland walls… when I heard someone coming! *dramatic music* I grabbed my almost-opened can of paint and dashed into the closet just in time. I hid behind a stack of towels; Norway opened the door, and grabbed a towel off the top, narrowly avoiding seeing me. Get this: he. was. NAKED! _Naked!_  I SAW NORWAY NAKED! Personal goal ACHIEVED.

Ah, I remember when I used to want to see Sve naked….. Now I’m glad to pawn him off on Finland. I mean, for a girly-man, Norway was BIG if you know what I mean.

So anyway. I couldn’t hide in that dumb old closet the whole time, y’know? So, like some awesome ninja guy, I slooooowly crept out without being noticed.

Btw, the shower curtain is translucent. Wet naked Norge makes dry naked Norge look even less sexy. And that’s saying something.

 

P.S. After he got dressed, I did come back and paint the walls :) He should find out by tomorrow. And I also stole his hairclip.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

It was a normal day for me, trying to get Iceland to call me Brother and such. It was a long day (trying to get Iceland to say that is exhausting), so I decided to go take a calming shower. That and I heard suspicious sounds of Dane through the air vents. Anyway, when I walked into the bathroom, it already smelled like paint. Joy. Muffled noises from the towel closet? I opened the door, casually taking a towel. He thought I couldn’t see his strange gravity-defying hair peeking out from behind the stack of towels?

I heard him gasp. Sick pervert…As I was taking my shower, I saw him sneak past me (idiot probably thinks he’s a “super awesome ninja”…) and stop. To. Freaking. Stare. Does he not know that I can see through this side, too?

As I got out of the shower, I reached for my hairclip which I left on the counter…

But it wasn’t there. Bastard stole my hairclip! I’ll get him back for that…

Back on a better note, Iceland told me that he would call me Big Brother on one condition; That I got together with Denmark. So never mind. This isn’t  a better note…


	7. Chapter 7

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Note to self: never, _ever_ invade in Norge’s 5 foot radius.

 Everything was going AWESOME. Norge’s bathroom was looking niiiiice and pink, and his beloved hair clip was nice and safe inside my pants. I was acting like it was a ~~Norway~~ normal (I just can’t think of “nor” without adding “way”!) ol’ day for us Nordics… Norge was just looking a little more pissy than usual. Then again, I’ve come to expect that of him. I thought it would be a nice gesture to walk up to him for a hug. Norge gives me the SEXIEST death glare. But it was kind of terrifying, I admit. As crazy as this sounds, he beat me up _without even touching me!_  Yeah. That douche is _that_ wacked up. I even felt something strangling me like Norge always does, but Norge was 3 feet away from me! Now I’ve got all these weird bruises all over me… And what looks like pixie dust.

But that’s stupid. His weirdo imaginary friends are IMAGINARY. On the bright side, I swear I saw the tiiiiiiiiiiiiniest smile on his face at my pain. That jackass :)

Oh, ja. He also asked what I did with his hairclip. I told him I don’t know. So he kicked me off the porch (literally). I didn’t know he was an awesome ninja too! I kinda hope he does find his hairclip, ‘cause the only way he’ll find it is if he gets in my pants ;)

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

He painted my bathroom pink. I’ve had it with him…He’s had my hairclip for over a week, I swear, I will kill him.

Oh, by the way. I sent my pixies after him when he got near my five foot radius. Why does he smile when I glare? You should’ve seen his face when the pixies attacked. He was so confused. I had one of my trolls strangle him for me. My job just gets easier every day… I think I actually smirked. He’s going to have ~~my ba~~ pixie dust all over him forever.

So today I tried searching his room for my hairclip. Damn. I bet it’s in his pocket. I’ll get him for that. Maybe I could get my pixies to retrieve it for me. 


	8. Chapter 8

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Damn it, I am ashamed of myself for once. I caved. I fricking caved. I… I gave him his hairclip back.

 I had it all planned out. He was gonna reach into my pants to retrieve it, but before he took it he’d get all turned on and he would be MINE. But uh-uh. I accidentally looked into those beautiful freakin’ eyes of his, and I just couldn’t handle making him suffer! The woman-man just can’t survive without that girly accessory… So I went up to my room, took the clip out of my boxers, and get this- I’m such a softie that I actually washed it off before returning it to him!

Bastard didn’t even say THANK YOU.

Maybe I never should’ve gotten over Sweden. I feel like he’d be much less difficult.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

…He gave it back. I thought I was going to have to strangle him for it…I mean, it’s not like he feels something for me…right? Damn.


	9. Chapter 9

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Today was pretty awesome. I got a new order of Legos- for free, ‘cause I invented that shit- and was assembling them, when Icey comes in the room! I’m all like, “Hey lameo :)” and he glares at me for a sec, then he... Wait for it... ASKED WHAT I WAS DOING. Yeah! It was almost like he was actually interested! I told him it was this Harry Potter set thing (England got me into that stuff), and.... Ready? READY?! He SAT DOWN AND MADE IT WITH ME! Ja! True story! WE WERE TOTALLY BONDING!

He’s still lame though.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I was having a perfectly happy day. Until I woke up to remember I live with Denmark. I walked into the room casually with a bowl of Cheerios in my hand...when I saw...you aren’t going to believe this, Brother Dearest and Denmark. On the floor. Playing with Legos. What. The. Hell. He’s not allowed to go anywhere near Denmark...it’s like Denmark is trying to take me away from my own brother by mocking me! By playing Legos with him!

He’s still a bastard.


	10. Chapter 10

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Funny how Legos keep popping up recently- I guess my invention has just been reaching its full potential of magnificence lately. But what I’m about to tell you, Diary, will blow your MIND. ...Do diaries have minds? THIS ISN’T EVEN A DIARY, IT’S A JOURNAL. ...nah, it’s a diary :)

ANYWAY. For once in my lifetime, I actually decided to get our mail. I’ve got some bad karma I gotta make up for, y’know? So I went outside, waved to the neighbors (they ran inside when they saw me, I don’t get it! D:), and opened the mailbox. All stupid stuff like BILLS.... Except this one magazine. A Legos magazine! I was psyched, right? But then I got all confused. I never subscribed to the thing ‘cause I mean, I invented Legos. I know everything that goes on in that world. I checked who it was addressed to......

Lukas. Fucking. Bondevik.

Norge has an interest in something I created.

Something his own little bro chose to bond with me over.

He’s so interested that he subscribed to a magazine about it.

Hell yeah.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Damn it! He found the magazines! Why the hell did I even subscribe...I’m an idiot. I mean, I didn’t figure he’d ever find them. Denmark’s much too lazy to go get the mail. I’m just glad the others hadn’t told him before now.

Even though Iceland said he could’ve used it as blackmail and regrets that he never did...He’s a cruel brother.

But now he knows!

That I’m interested in something he created!

Damn it!


	11. Chapter 11

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Holy shit. Ho.ly. shit. I’m freaking out. FREAKING. OUT. In a good way, though. A great way.

So I’ve always figured Sve was bangin’ Finny, and know that he’s always all like “This is my wife,” and the two of them are always together, and they share a room, and they have that cute little puppy, but I didn’t know how much of a legit couple they are. …..Okay. Never mind. Ja I did. They’re as good as effing married.

So guess what.

I was just derping around the internet (I’m loving the Norwegian porn sight America linked me to) when Sweden and Finland came home. Not a big deal, they’re usually gone all day anyway. But this time, they came back..... With a kid. An adorable little kid. I thought the guy was like, 7; turns out he’s 12.

NOT THE POINT THOUGH. He had these bigass eyebrows, and a dorky little sailor’s outfit... His name is Sealand. Sve and Finny adopted him off of Ebay. Badass, right? Only in the Nordic household is there a kid that was adopted off of Ebay. HELLZ yeah.

He’s really talkative. And craaaaaazy friendly. It’s like looking in a mirror! Well, when it comes to personality. He’s totally gonna be like my little bro.

 

P.S. Ja, I definitely knew Sweden and Finland had a lot going on. I haven’t seen them kiss in front of people, but I sleep in the room across the hall from them. They don’t do it quietly ;P

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Finland and Sweden brought home a child today. Where did they get it? Finland told me that Sweden had gotten him off of Ebay...Only in this house would a child be bought off of Ebay. Seriously.

The only thing that gets on my nerves about this Sealand kid is everything about him. He doesn’t shut up, is crazy friendly, and just...a mini Denmark. He’s annoying...I don’t know how I’ve put up with him for ten minutes.

Iceland seemed to recognize him, too. He kind of looked agitated when Sealand tried to get him to call him his...teacher? I don’t even know. I remember when Iceland auctioned himself off of Ebay...


	12. Chapter 12

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I decided to be less of an asshole and not tell Norge I know his little Lego fetish. ...Yet. Naturally I was going to bring it up EVENTUALLY, but we still haven’t really settled down from having Sealand join us. ….Speaking of which, does that make us the Nordic 6? FFFFFFFFFFFF THAT DOESN’T HAVE AS MUCH OF A RING TO IT!

MOVING ON. I swung by the convenience store (not to laugh over how stupid Norway looks in his uniform, psh, no way) and saw that there’s this new type of cereal out. That shit looked DELICIOUS. But there were so many flavors... Strawberry, raisin, almond, cinnamon, and like, 4 more. I just had to buy them all! Norge wasn’t working the counter when I checked out, so he didn’t see... But he did when he got home.

And he was pissed.

He growled somethin’ about “wasting money” and “taking up space.” He probably just had his panties in a twist because now he has less room in the cereal cabinet for those effing Cheerios of his. He doesn’t even like the frosted kind! Just the plain ones! Weirdo.

But he makes weird look sexy.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

He bought...I don’t even know how many boxes. Six, seven of them? It’s taking up space...wasting our money...I swear, I won’t have any money left for butter when Christmas comes around. 

How did I miss him when he went to the convenience store? He’s quite noticeable...

So Iceland hasn’t been around lately. I’m getting worried...what if he’s with that Asian boy again? What’s his name...Hong Kong? He better not be doing anything with him. Iceland is MY little brother. Not his....Wait. What if Iceland’s... _gay?_ He needs to stop hanging around that Dane...Or it must run in the family. Wait. Why’d I say that? Damn it. Well now I regret writing in pen.


	13. Chapter 13

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Damn it. Just... just _damn it all_. Of course, the pregnancy tests and pink bathroom weren’t enough when it comes to harassing Norge. Have you SEEN the list of the shit he’s done to me? So, I decided to sneak around his room and steal something while he was at work.

But I got distracted.

Now, I don’t even know why, but what caught my eye was his hairbrush. Just sitting there on the dresser. That thing has been pulled through Norge’s hair, hundreds of times. He never lets me close enough to be able to smell his shampoo anymore... So I figured there was still a bit of that sexy aroma on his brush. All ninja-like, I tiptoed over there and picked the brush up. Ah, the smell of Norge. It was ALL OVER that shit. Now what was the scent he used... Vanilla? Lavender? Both? Whatever it was, it was _delicious_.

I had to use that brush, man. I had to use it. A few strands of his hair were stuck in the bristles, and he used it every morning... If I ran it through MY hair, that’d be like.... Like indirect hair sex! So, I picked that thing up and ran it over my hair. My awesome, gravity defying, unbelievably natural, golden blonde(ish) hair.

Do you know what happened? Do you? Well you’re about to find out, bitch: my hair... flopped RIGHT over. Yeah! My trademark hair DEFLATED! That’s like... the arctic catching on fire. That shit CAN’T HAPPEN!

I have no fricking clue how it happened, either. Norge must’ve like, used some of his freaky magic to make bad things happen to me when I touch his stuff... ;A;

...of course I’m still going to, though. Especially if you think of “touch his stuff” with a 10 year old’s sense of humor ;)

I’ll just have to add some hair gel for now... That should serve as a good kick-start. Hopefully.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

        I knew he would use it! My hair brush, of course! So I figured I could put a little...spell...on my hairbrush. I just knew he would use it eventually, so I put a spell on it so that if he used it, his gravity-defying, golden hair...Getting off topic.

        So that his hair would fall into his face. I could only imagine how his face looked when Denmark used that brush.

        I came home to find a receipt on the table with at least four different brands of hair gel listed on the dining room table. I shoved the list in my pocket, already thinking of ways to use the receipt as blackmail. Finland had come out soon after, with dinner prepared. Unfortunately, he made me go fetch the Demon-Dane. Before I could even knock on his bedroom door, he had flung open his door, a cocky grin plastered across his face. The only difference was that his hair was down in front of his face, covering his blue eyes. It was pathetically greasy; a failed experiment from the hair gel. Denmark’s grin faded, looking down at me. Great. He was pissed. Not that I cared...He miserably shoved past me, shuffling down the stairs.

        ...What am I saying. I don’t care that I messed up his hair...


	14. Chapter 14

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Norge won’t openly come out about it (hehe, that makes  him sound gay), but he needs help. Badly. See, his home country has been going through this thing entitled the butter crisis. All his butter is going POOF! I bet he blames it on his “pixies” and “trolls.” Yeah, not like it’s thanks to a crappy economy or anything. ..I actually have no idea what it’s about. Just that Norway is the damsel in distress, and I MUST swoop in and save him! Brb while I sort out this situation.

 

Hey diary, I'm back. I offered Norge some butter...  I had my peeps buy a crap load of the stuff, and send it over to Norge’s home (not his HOME home, ‘cause he technically lives with us other Nordics, but you know what I mean). Guess what? He took it.Didn’t say thank you or nothing, but took it. That’s good enough for me!

And guess what else.

I woke up, and what was on the counter? A butter cake. With a note saying it was for me. It was too sloppy to be Finland’s... Call me crazy, but I think NORGE made that shit. That jaded little softie! God was that thing delicious. Finny would’ve made a better one... But the fact that Norway’s sweet, _sweet_ hands created it because I was a good fricking person that helped him out made it the best thing ever.

….I probably shouldn’t have eaten it all in one day, though. I kinda feel like I’m gonna vomit.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

As you know, my country has been suffering a very...dramatic crisis. Thanks to the heavy rains, the cows have not been able to graze, therefore not producing any milk for our butter. The prices in butter went up, and poof. We were soon on a butter shortage. So inside, I was freaking out because I wouldn’t have butter for Christmas. But then, you know what Denmark did...?

He jumped in and helped. He got some of his friends together and shipped in some butter to Norway...I can’t believe he did that. Without even _asking._

So...Of course I had to thank him. But..not to his face, of course...! So I decided, using some of that new butter, to make him a butter cake. Now I’m not too good at making cakes, but I figured it was fine to try. It came out alright, I guess...not as good as Finland’s. I wrote his name on a little piece of paper, left the cake on the table next to the note, and got the hell out of there.

** It’s not like I appreciate his help. **


	15. Chapter 15

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Have you ever done something, and had such a good freaking time doing it that you’re like “Well damn. I GOTTA do this again! Even if I might go to Hell for it!” Well, now you know what it feels like rooting through Norge’s stuff.

He was at his dorky little job again, so I snuck up to ‘is room and decided to look through the drawers in his dresser. I was kinda disappointed that his underwear wasn’t anything special, but I _did_ find something promising in his sock drawer: a photo album. I slid it out, tried to reorganize his socks (he _probably_ won’t notice if a few are out of place...) and went back into the safety of my own room to investigate this album.

I have now decided that Lukas Bondevik is a pedophile.

The whole thing was pictures of _Icey._ Baby pictures (including ones of him naked in the tub. Like, EW); toddler pictures; pictures of him when he was a grumpy little kid... It was almost like the first, I dunno, 14 years of Iceland’s life (well, when it comes to his appearance age) were ALL photographed by Norway. The farther into the album I got, the more pictures containing a caught-off-guard Iceland I found.

I almost considered returning it to Norway’s room without giving it another thought, unless blackmail came up.

But of course, I couldn’t resist being an ass. That’s just how I roll :)

I thought back on when Icey auctioned himself off on Ebay. Poor, poor loser. I bet the bidders that couldn’t buy him were real disappointed, so since I’m such a selfless person, I thought I’d put a little piece of Iceland up for grabs. That’s right baby: I put the photo album on Ebay.

…...Unfortunately for me, it turns out that Sealand is a very frequent user of the website. He found it, told Sweden, who told Finland, who knew about the album and told Norway...  Sorry if my handwriting isn’t its bestest. I’m hiding in a dark closet, praying Norge doesn’t find me. ‘Cause let me tell you: he. was. PISSED.

 

P.S. He took the album off of Ebay. So, no profit for me. :(

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I knew something was up the minute I came home to find the photo album of Iceland missing. I didn’t need to know who took it; I was almost positive I knew. I held it off for a couple of days, figuring Denmark would cave and give it back to me. But then after a week, I started getting a little agitated. Why wasn’t he running back to me like he usually does? It almost scared me.

Then Finland came running up to me and informed me that he had set up an auction for the album on Ebay. What. The. Hell. Lucky Sealand saw it before anyone bought it, I would’ve been even more pissed than I already was. I hacked into Denmark’s Ebay account (It was easy, I knew his username, and his password wasn’t hard to guess; it was “IloveNorge”) and took the album down immediately.

When I find him...I swear, I’m sending my troll after him.


	16. Chapter 16

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Well, I feel like crap. I ended up staying in that closet for a good 8 hours, and it was NOT. FUN. It was really cramped, and I was practically starving and really had to pee. But it was worth it, escaping the worst of Norway’s wrath.

I mean, yeah, I have a lot of unexplained scratches and bruises on my back now, but I’m going to claim Hanatamago just went all crazy in her sleep. That makes WAY more sense than saying Norway’s trolls and fairies attacked me.....

Anyway. For about the billionth time since we’ve known each other, Norge gave me the silent treatment. I guess I’ve gotten used to it at this point. Besides; I’d take (almost) any consequence, if it meant getting under that Norwegian creeper’s skin. >:)

...There was one thing that kinda unnerved me though.

The glaring from afar, I could take.

The avoidance, I could take.

The mysterious beatings from his imaginary friends, I could take.

Going into the basement to check the expiration dates on my beer stash and finding a picture of my sexy face taped to a dartboard, with at least 30 holes in it and a few darts gathered around where the bull’s-eye was? Yeah, that kind of freaked me out. Not because it was something I didn’t expect from Norge.... but because I also expected those darts to end up in my actual face sooner or later.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Eight whole hours in a closet? The house was strangely quiet without Denmark running around. I don’t miss that or anything...But he’s kind of been in there for _eight hours_. Surely that’s enough to make anyone go crazy...I’ll just come back when he comes out.

 

Ah, finally. The Dane rises from the dead. He finally came out, right? So he goes down to the basement for a few minutes, then comes back up with this _horrified_ look on his face.

Well now I’m worried what Finland and Sweden were doing down there earlier.

Then again, I do have that dartboard down there with a picture of him on it. Oops.


	17. Chapter 17

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I’ve got some news, biatches! Finland was being more giggly than usual, which is saying something. I didn’t think anything of it... I was preoccupied with looking for my ax. At the end of the week, though, Finny and Sve called a “Nordic meeting” (well, Nordics and Sealand) and we all had to gather ‘round in the living room. Oooh, EXCITEMENT. But it actually was pretty awesome. Cuz it turns out, when I thought Sweden and Finland were bangin’ each other, they were actually planning out a vacation for all of us! Norge was in on it apparently, cuz we’re taking some Norwegian Cruise to Bermuda. Never heard of that place, but it sounds sexy.

So anyway. We had to go shopping cuz it’s kind of the middle of fall and we don’t own a lot of clothes for summer (and Norway kind of burned half my wardrobe. That delightful little jackass just wants me naked, I think). Icey wouldn’t come with us- something about being content with long sleeves and pants in all weather. Freak.

Finland’s got the whole thing planned out. Sweden worked out the schedules and crap; Finland color coded it. And added smiley faces. It makes it a lot better, if you ask me.

I’ve got all these sexual shorts, swim trunks (all of which have the Danish flag on them, of course), a pair of flip-flops and drop-dead-sexy sunglasses, a bunch of skin tight tank tops (y’know, so Norge can see my biceps AND abs), and some flannel shirts. Man, if those Bermudaians don’t follow me home or at least want my body, those bitches have no taste! Our ship leaves this afternoon, so I gotta go now. I am so PUMPED! This vacation’s gonna be the awesomest thing EVER.

 

 

Hey diary, I’m back. Guess my instincts aren’t exactly as perfect as I thought they were... We were only on the ship for an hour when it kinda started to sink, and we kinda ended up on a deserted island.

Ah damn it.

 

P.S. On the bright side, I found my ax! At least I have it with me now that we’re probably gonna like, die.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

A couple weeks ago, Finland asked me to book a Norwegian cruise and a location. Naturally, I chose the one place I’ve always wanted to go to for vacation: Bermuda. About a week later, Finland was giddy with excitement and called us all for a Nordic meeting (with Sealand, but I don’t count him as a Nordic). He told us all we were going, and then spent about a week packing.

And then all of Finland and Sweden’s plans crashed to the ground. We were only on the ship for an hour, but then it started to sink. So now we’re stranded on an island. With no one on it. Except seagulls, puffins, and a Denmark (who, by the way, found his ax. Though that’s not necessarily a bad thing, on this island).

 

We’ve been on this island for two minutes, and Denmark’s already flung his shirt off, prancing around the beach and kicking sand around. This is even worse than when he tried to do the old Titanic trick with me on the boat...It’s really no different that he’s not wearing a shirt, considering that those stupid tank tops he wears are skin tight. And you can see every outline of his muscles (and damn, is he rip- Wait.)

I seriously need to stop writing in pen. Maybe the seawater will wear this off the paper...


	18. Chapter 18

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

It’s okay. You can calm down now. Everything’s gonna be fine. I can survive this whole ordeal. Because I found a friend.

You’re probably thinking, “aren’t you here with 5 of your closest friends?” Well Diary, you can shut the HELL up. Haven’t you ever seen television?! In these situations, everyone always turns on each other in the end. MUTINY AND BETRAYAL, BITCH! We’re going to have to end up sacrificing each other. So I’m going with the every-man-for-himself logic and sticking to myself. But that’s really lonely...

Which is why I made a friend.

He’s a really cool guy. He’s been hanging around this island for a while now, so he knows it well. He’s a real toughie, yet a great listener. He’s small but pretty heavy, while at the same time portable... And round and fuzzy... His name, you ask? Mr. Coconut. I’ve only known him for 10 minutes, but I already know our friendship is golden. I mean, I drew him a face with a Sharpie! That’s best friend material if I ever heard it.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

What. Just...what. He’s gone insane. He befriended a coconut...and named it. He named a _coconut._ Its name is really stupid...Mr. Coconut. He named it Mr. Coconut! He brings it everywhere and talks to it. I mean, while we’re off like, collecting wood for a fire or something, he brings it. And asks of its opinions of things such as, “Does this stick look good to burn?” or, “Doesn’t Norge look _sexy_ in his little sailor outfit?”

And when I thought it couldn’t get any crazier, he pulled out some Sharpie marker and drew a smiley face on it.

 

If he doesn’t watch out, the coconut will be annihilated. 


	19. Chapter 19

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Well fuck. Fuck times 10. I... I’m so alone now... Mr. Coconut. He.... he’s DEAD. I probably won’t be able to read this later, cuz my tears are smudging my writing. But, anyway, the day was going just fine. Well, as fine as a day in which we get shipwrecked can go. Sweden’s all like “Get food, make shelter and a fire” so I went to gather firewood ‘n shit. Mr. Coconut was an AWESOME companion the whole time. He helped me decide which sticks were flammable, and agreed with me when I was saying how SEXY Norge looks in his sailor suit. Mmm... Norge’s sailor suit... NO. I can’t fanboy over Norway. I’m mad at him.

Here’s why.

Even when you’re on a deserted island, nature still calls, if you know what I mean. I do have dignity, so I left Mr. Coconut at our little campsite while I found a nice tree to, heh, well you know. I came back....... Norway. Sitting there. Handing out straws he made out of bamboo to Sealand (who was clinging to Finland. Awww.), Finland (who was clinging to Sweden), Iceland, and Sweden. That seemed pretty normal... But then I saw what they were putting the straws in.

Coconut milk, still in the coconut shell.

I tried not to panic. I mean, I was very sad anyway, because that was Mr. Coconut’s kin! That could be his cousin! But no, it wasn’t his cousin. Or sibling. Or parent. The Sharpie smiley face on Norway’s half of the shell was proof that it was Mr. Coconut himself.

I don’t care if i dehydrate. There is no way in HELL I’m going to drink the insides of my best friend. I’ll drink seawater, thank you very much. I plan on having a memorial for him later on. That is, if Norway doesn’t dispose of his body.

R.I.P, Mr. Coconut. Our friendship was brief, but you will ALWAYS be in my heart. Always.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Heh. Sometimes, I make myself laugh. You should’ve seen Dane’s face! So when he left to use the restroom, I figured, “This is my chance!” So I took Mr. Coconut and made drinks for everyone. Discluding Denmark, of course. When he came back, he looked as if he was trying not to freak out on me (And I hid his ax in the forest, just in case). He just stared at me, trying to decide what to do to me. It seemed like ages until he finally snapped; he ran towards the ocean and started drinking the seawater. He really is insane, because that’s disgusting.

While Denmark was pouting on the other side of the beach, I asked Sweden to make a coconut bra out of the two halves of Mr. Coconut. I didn’t tell him it was for Denmark, I just figured he’d freak out on me.

Wait. Sweden, freaking out? Hah. I just mean he’d think less of me.

But anyways, I just kind of want to see Denmark in a coconut bra. He’d look so stupid...


	20. Chapter 20

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

This was the first day we woke up on this island. I was kind of hoping I’d wake up in a nice comfy cabin on a cruise ship, but noooo. Of COURSE it wasn’t a dream. We really are stranded, and Norway really did use my best friend as a food supply. And I really did throw up for like, 3 minutes because I drank a crap load of salt water. Oh, by the way, I did end up having a memorial for Mr. Coconut. Norge didn’t dispose of his carcass, luckily... But I DID find his shell made into a bra. Da hell?

Well, I ended up burying that bra (I mean, who would wear something that had a smiley face on one boob but not the other? Seriously, that’s tacky) and said a few words of parting. I can be so deep when I want to.

Obviously, I was pissed at Norge. HE KILLED MY NEW BEST FRIEND! But, there were a few things distracting me from my current hatred of him. First off, I can’t look at him without getting at least slightly turned on. I mean, his face is like angels carved it out of marble. And that sailor outfit of his... It perfectly outlines his girly figure. The girly figure that I want naked under me in bed.

But his sexualness isn’t the only reason I’m probably gonna be over my hissy fit by the next day. Lack of nutrition and a comfy bed can really chip away at a guy’s sanity, which I never really had much of to begin with (who needs mental safety when you have awesomeness?). I knew that we weren’t going to survive very long, so I decided to cash in Norway’s v-card right then and now. So I stuck my hand up his shirt.

...I haven’t seen him since. He slapped me SUPER hard and stormed off down the shore... I tried to make him come back. And I apologized like a billion times. But he didn’t care. He disappeared around the corner. By the time I caught up with him...... there wasn’t anything to catch up with. His footprints led toward the ocean...... His hat. His adorkable little sailor hat. It was just floating in the middle of the water. He drowned himself... He hates me so much that he chose suicide over doing it with me....

Fuck everything.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

He wouldn’t wear the bra. Something about it being asymmetrical...He buried it somewhere it in the forest, covering it with vines and island flowers.

So Denmark has some nerves! It must be the seawater getting to him, because he tried...tried...to...he did shove his hand up my shirt! He got a good hard slap to the face, and with that I walked away. I couldn’t take this anymore! When I was far enough into the forest, I took one of those palm fronds with me to the shore. I took my hat off my head (the sailor one, you know) and placed it in the water. I walked back to the forest, making sure to rub out all the footprints leading to the forest out with the palm frond.

Yes, I could’ve used my hands. But the frond was easier.

 

Knowing Denmark, he’ll probably think I’m dead...Good. Now he won’t drool all over me. He can go make some new coconut friends.


	21. Chapter 21

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Well, I’m currently all wet. It’s really hard to write this, cuz the water is dripping all over the journal, but this little book is the only source of pleasure I have right now. That’s right, be honored you hardcover bitch.

Anyway.

Norge loved his hat. I know he loved his hat. He liked his hair clip better, but the hat still had some meaning to him. So I kicked off my shoes and ran right out into the water (I’d taken my shirt off a long time before). I swam out to sea, probably almost getting eaten by a shark, and grabbed that purpley sailor’s hat. Then I swam all the way back to shore. The waves were pretty lame, but that doesn’t make me any less badass for diving in to save the hat. Right now, I’m wearing it. This whole stranded-with-no-hope-for-the-future thing must really be getting to me, because I don’t even care that it’s flattening out my hair. I will not let it seem like Norge’s death meant nothing to me. Unlike him, _I’m_ a compassionate person.

I’m not taking the hat off. Not until I know dear Lukas is resting in peace.

…....Wait. Can’t nations not die....? Maybe he somehow didn’t drown...

I’m still keeping the hat.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I watched him from my place in the forest. He actually swam out into the ocean and brought the hat back, refusing to take it off. One thing I did notice was that he left his own hat on the beach...when he was out of view, I ran out and took it.

I’m never letting it out of my sight.

I mean, I don’t miss him or anything...It’s just, I’ve been thinking about him a lot recently. All the things he’s done. But the scene that won’t go away is when he got my hat from the ocean. His expression was full of determination, as if it wasn’t just Denmark, well, being Denmark. It was as if he really did feel something for me.

 

...I seriously need to stop writing in pen. Note to self: BUY PENCILS.


	22. Chapter 22

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

HE’S ALIVE! NORGE IS ALIVE! I knew he couldn’t be dead! I was wandering around the island for about an hour after I retrieved the hat, when I saw somethin’ move in the forest. Since I’m the awesome king of Scandinavia, I had to investigate. I mean, Norway hid my ax, so I was screwed... Ah, who am I kidding. I got two buddies named Right Fist and Left Fist that could get me out of any sticky situation.

So I pushed my way through some weird bush thingies, and who did I see? NORWAY! Kneeling by a tree stump, doing somethin’ suspicious with a pile of leaves. I ran like hell over there (not having to worry about stepping on shit, cuz I had my flip-flops back on) and hugged him super tight from behind. I think I heard a little crack, but I don’t care! Norway wasn’t dead! I buried my face in his back, getting as close to him as possible- y’know, to make sure he really was here with me. He spun around and punched me square in the jaw. Damn, he should be a fricking BOXER. I swear a few of my teeth came loose! But I still don’t care. Norway hadn’t drowned. And get this: _he was wearing my hat._ You know, my awesome little black one? Yeah. I’d left it on the shore when I put on HIS hat, and now he was wearing it. He told me to shut the hell up when I let all my relief blabber out of my mouth, but I think I saw him blush when I saw the hat on his head. I know for a fact, though, that he blushed when he noticed that my shirt was open. Those gorgeous eyes of his totally lingered on my six pack, I swear.

But wait, there’s more. He kicked the pile of leaves he was screwing with before storming out of the forest; I was gonna follow after him, but then I saw that he had kicked leaves out of the way of my ax. My sweet, _sweet_ ax.

That crazy little douche will be mine by the time a rescue team shows up.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Well damn it all.

He found me. And worst of all, I caved.

When he found me, I just HAPPENED to be wearing his hat. Denmark hugged me from behind; I didn’t even know he was there. I swear, he crushed my ribs in that tight embrace. In a way, though, I was glad that he found me. I’ve just been lonely, sitting in the forest with nothing to keep me company but his hat, my troll, and pixies.

Anyway. I turned around, already knowing that he’d have this cocky grin on his face like, “Haha, I FOUND you!” But he didn’t. It was more...relieved. Relieved that I was okay. And don’t tell anyone, but his shirt was..heh...open. And I hate to say it, but damn. I was...turned on. Whatever. Back to the main focus of this.

Okay, I couldn’t control myself. I punched him right in the face. Why did I do that? And here’s where I caved: As I stormed away, I kicked the pile of leaves I had formed nicely around his ax so he could see it...Because...he deserved to have it back.

 

PS: I’ve still got his hat.


	23. Chapter 23

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Kids are insane. I swear I’m never having any. ...Well, that’s not true. I do like kids. And maybe some of them are sane. But Sealands... Sealands are not normal things.

So I finally decided it would be best to stop being a loner and actually rejoin the guys. Maybe we’d have a better chance of living if we were all together. There’s also a better chance of turning to cannibalism... But I’ll try not to think about that.

Finland was basically flipping his shit when I found him. He was sobbing into Sweden’s chest (well, there weren’t any tears; he was just making sobbing sounds) and saying something about being a horrible parent, and either not being loved enough by his son or not loving his son enough. Poor Finny. The whole time, Sweden’s just strokin’ his hair, totally apathetic expression, occasionally saying something like “He/we love(s) you.” Just when I was about to ask what the hell was going on (I figured the strandedness had just gotten to Finland too), Icey came over, looking totally pissed. Deciding not to be a cockblocker, and being nice enough to let Finny and Sve have their little husband-wife moment, I asked Iceland if he knew what was happening.

I won’t go into too much detail, so I’ll summarize: Sealand thinks he’s a big-shot that owns half the island. Sealand also has a thing for being chill with seagulls. So if you try to step on Sealand’s trek of land, you’re gonna end up with a herd of seagulls chasing your ass back to the side of the island that the freaky British kid doesn’t claim to own.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I am thoroughly terrified now. While I was adventuring through the woods, I came upon some line that was drawn in the dirt. I figured it was nothing. So I kept walking.

Big mistake.      

As soon as I set foot over the line, a whole herd of seagulls tried to kill me! Unfortunately, they chased me all the way back to the beach where the other guys are. And just because I’m so incredibly stupid, I somehow managed to trip. And fall right into Denmark. What are the odds.

 

Iceland doesn’t seem to enjoy when I’m around Denmark...every time we interact, he’s off in the corner surrounded by this dark aura. Poor Brother Dearest...he’s such a little boy. He must not want me to fall in love so I won’t be slowly pulled away from him...Wait. I’m not in love with Denmark...why would he think I loved him?! Why would I write that?! What’s going on...?

I am so emotionally confused right now.


	24. Chapter 24

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So another night has passed. That means we’ve been here for... um... 2 nights. :) Wait, no, that should be a :( . Anyhoos, I think the crazy disease is infecting all of us (except for Sweden, it seems) at least a little bit. Puffin has been squawking orders (literally) at us since we all regrouped, and it is pissing Icey OFF. I don’t think the poor guy’s gonna last much longer.

Ooh, but I really hope he does. Cuz he’s cooking some type of meat- MEAT! I haven’t had meat since we got on the ship!- and it smells like happiness. Brb while I chow down.

 

….I... I don’t even... I just... That was delicious, first of all. Tasted just like chicken. I wanted to know what the hell it was, so I could find another one and cook it up (or have someone else cook it for me)... Puffin. Iceland said... it was puffin.... And I haven’t seen Mr. Puffin for a couple hours. I think I’m gonna go get drink some seawater now, since it seems to be the equivalent of getting my stomach pumped...

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

My little brother...he’s been infected by the disease. He cooked Mr. Puffin. I mean, yes, Puffin was annoying as hell...but you don’t DO that! That’s just not right. And we all ate Mr. Puffin.

Ice’s pretty screwed up in the head, if you ask me. I think I’m going to talk to him about that...

 

Ah...Well it wasn’t Mr. Puffin. I went over to talk to Iceland and poof. Puffin. Iceland looked pretty pissed...he actually thought he cooked him, too. He’s just gone insane by now. But then again, I think we all have. Except Sweden. He’s still scarily emotionless.  


	25. Chapter 25

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Well, since the gang’s back together again (all _six_ of us- Sweden smacked some sense into Sealand. Well, more like _stared_ some sense into him), we started assigning roles so we could all make it off this island alive. Sweden, being a carpenter, was in charge of building shelter that didn’t suck balls. Finland’s gathering food that probably isn’t poisonous. Iceland and Sealand haven’t been given jobs yet, cuz they’re spending most of their time fighting over Sealand’s decision that in the event we end up stranded forever, he gets to be the king of the island. Again: the kid is insane.

Moving onto the important topic... Guess what job I got. Well, my job itself isn’t all that important... It just matters that I got the same exact one as Norway! ...That was really exciting at first, but then I found out that it required him being on the opposite side of the island as me. See, since I have my ax, and my ax has a bigass handle that can write when dragged across the sand, I get to write messages! Norge is doing the same thing on the other shore. Apparently he’s having his trolls help him write. Yeah, okay.

Finland said to write “SOS messages,” but what the hell does THAT mean? He finally must have realized that I deserve a break every once and a while, so he gave me the funnest job available. First I just made squiggly lines and doodles, but then I decided to go deeper. Norway would be coming back eventually, right? And if we were to spend our lives on this island, just ourselves...... Big as can be, I wrote out “MATHIAS X LUKAS” and “D + N.” Feeling extremely manly, I decided to show Norway right then and there that I wanted to tap him, so I went looking for that jackass.

I couldn’t find him. When I came back to my shore, he was already there... But my messages weren’t! He said the water washed them away. Stupid cockblocking ocean!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I love how I can trick Denmark into thinking things. When he drew some stupid things in the sand like, “D + N”, I somehow managed to rub them all out and blame it on the ocean. And he believed me! Hah! I bet he thought the ocean was “cockblocking” or something like that...

Though...I kind of regretted rubbing the messages all out. It was nice, really.

 

PS. I sent a few of my pixies to the mainland for help. Surely they’ll find some.


	26. Chapter 26

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

WE’RE SAVED! Holy Scandinavia, we are SAVED! I was walking up and down the shore, chewing on a piece of bark (DON’T JUDGE ME), when I saw somethin’ on the horizon. I ran out into the ocean, telling it to take me into its depths (looking back, that makes me seem kinda paranoid), figuring I was hallucinating. Everyone knows that hallucinations start right before death. But it turns out, I WASN’T hallucinating. There was a legit pirate ship sailing toward us! Which was a good thing at first, but then I realized they were PIRATES so I went back to get my ax. Some guys with funny accents onboard told us to get on... Like HELL was I gonna fall for that! This Dane was NOT getting robbed. But somehow, Sealand knew them... So we packed up the luggage we had managed to save, and walked up the plank-ladder-thingy onto the ship. We’ve been here for a couple hours now. DA NORDICS BE HEADIN’ HOME, BABY!

 

P.S. The food on this ship SUCKS. Who the hell let their “chef” cook?

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I knew it! My pixies got help! In only a few hours, a ship was on the way to the island where we all were. They had gone to find England and told him, and soon a pirate ship was on its way. For some reason, Denmark didn’t want to get on. I literally had to drag him by the collar to the boat to make him get on. Sealand greeted them...guess he knew them.

You know, I just realized. Sealand has a boat, right? Why couldn’t _he_ get _his_ boat and get help? Sometimes I really do want to strangle that kid.

 

I really do not understand why England likes the food that they offer on this ship. The scones taste like rocks. Or as I’ve heard Denmark say. I didn’t eat it. Sealand kept arguing that this was “gourmet”, but all of us disagreed. Finland would tell him to hush, and when that wouldn’t work, Sweden would just stare at him....

Iceland is being oddly quiet. Strange. I bet he misses Hong Kong.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	27. Chapter 27

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Ah, it’s good to be home. We’ve been back for like, 3 days now. Sealand has been complaining because Finland won’t take us back out to finish our vacation... He reminds me of myself when I was his age.

But that’s totally unimportant compared to what else happened. I was going to get the mail (I needed to see if Norge still gets those Lego magazines!) when I felt like I was being watched. I got in my awesome-kickass-mode, ready to, well, kick ass... Until I saw what was creeping up on me: a _puppy_. A big one, too. Like, it looked a month old, but it could eat Hanatamago as a snack. Do you know what that meant? This dog... was a Great Dane. My favorite type of dog! (for obvious reasons.) I abandoned my mission of snooting through the mail, got down on hands and knees, and crawled over to it. It didn’t look like it had any tags or anything... So he’s mine now.

I named him Mathias Junior, and he’s an even better best friend than Mr. Coconut. He’s so fricking cute; his paws are too big for his body, and he’s all tan but with a black muzzle and eyes, and he’s got this droopy face and these floppy ears... He tries to sit at the table like he’s a human, it’s the best thing ever! We play fetch, and go for jogs (I’ve picked up 11 chicks in one week thanks to him), and he sleeps on my bed. He kinda thinks he’s an itty bitty thing though, cuz he likes to sit on people... And he drools. And likes to use Hanatamago as a toy. And I left Finland in charge of feeding him.

Man I love that dog!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Yesterday, I caught Iceland on the phone. With _Hong Kong_. And he told him that he _loved him._ Well damn. My brother’s gay.

So anyways, we were all just relaxing from that horrible vacation when Denmark bursts in (not a surprise). The only difference this time is that he had...a dog. A Great Dane, at that. Yeah, I admit. It was cute. But not the point. As soon as this dog sees me, he bounds over to me (I don’t know how he runs with paws bigger than his body...) and licks me in the face. If that dog wasn’t so adorable, I think I might’ve killed it right then and there. All this dog has is energy. And its name is Mathias Junior. Gee. I wonder where he came up with THAT name. He goes everywhere with MJ (Like I’m writing Denmark’s name in here again). He sleeps with him, goes for runs, and even takes MJ with him to go get the mail. Is that even _necessary?_

...Okay, as I’m writing this, he’s sitting on the bed next to me, just licking my hand as I write. Oh, how I want to hate this dog...


	28. Chapter 28

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Whoever claimed real men don’t cry is a fucking liar. Because I’m the manliest man in existence, and I am sobbing my EYES out.

Junior... My bro, my baby... He’s gone. No, he isn’t dead (I don’t think), but he’s GONE. Some jackass left the door open... Whenever he sees the door open, he’s used to me going out it with him, so he must’ve went outside and then started looking to see why I wasn’t there too, and he never came back...

I looked everywhere. I put up posters. I called him. I asked the neighbors (the ones that don’t lock their windows at the sight of me) if they saw him. NOTHING. The best thing that has ever happened to me is gone...

I know it wasn’t me that left the door open. I never get up that early. Maybe it was Finny, trying to be helpful by letting him outside to do his morning business. Maybe it was Sealand being stupid. Maybe it was Sweden, getting revenge on when I kissed him back in high school. Maybe it was Iceland, because he hates me.

….Maybe it was Norway. Oh, I pray to God it wasn’t Norway. Because that would mean I’m constantly attracted to the heartless douche that let my one source of true happiness run away...

Then again, that sounds about right.

 

**Norway**

_Dear Diary,_

...Well now I feel terrible. Really horrible. Which in unnatural for me, right? Okay, I was getting really annoyed with MJ, so I let him outside so I wouldn’t have to hear him whine. I left the door open so he could come back when he wanted or whatever, but he never did.

Why did I feel, I don’t know, _heartbroken_ when I saw Denmark actually tearing up? Usually his pain makes me overjoyed. I actually smile when he’s injured. But this time...I felt bad. He was so happy with Mathias Junior, so...not himself. A different happy. Like his true side was being shown, almost.

What is wrong with me?! Am I...actually...possibly...in _love_ with Denmark?


	29. Chapter 29

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

To help get my mind off of... HIM... Finny offered to take us to the movies. Sealand wanted to see some animated Tim Burton movie, but _I_ wanted to see _House At the End of the Street._ I mean, Jennifer Lawrence? I’d tap that. So Finland took Sealand to see his gay creepy cartoons while me, Icey, Sweden, and Norway went to see OUR creepy movie.

I found it kind of hilarious, really. I mean, yeah, I was the only one in the theater screaming my ass off every time Carrie Anne showed up.... but let’s not get into that. We SHOULD get into the fact that Norway got fed up with the movie a little more than halfway through, and decided to hang out in the lobby like the loser he is. So he got up and shuffled passed me... with his back facing me.

I know what you’re thinking, Diary. You’re probably thinking i was turned on by having Norge’s ass practically in my face, aren’t you, ya sick bastard? Well guess what. That’s completely not true. I was turned OFF, if anything. Because in my country, when you’re squeezing past people, you do NOT have your backside facing the people you’re sliding past. You sidestep with your FRONT facing them! Otherwise it’s like.... Like giving someone the finger. I was so disrespected that my ego was almost affected. Yeah. MY ego was almost damaged. _Mine_.

I’m kind of glad Norge left though. The ending of the movie sucked.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Well my day was fun. We went to the movies (Finland made us...) and went to see some lame horror movie, which wasn’t even scary. I had to get out of the place. I left about halfway through to sit in the lobby, entertaining myself by counting people who entered.

...It wasn’t that entertaining, let me tell you that.

Okay, what really scared me is that I couldn’t get my mind off of Denmark. Why, you ask? ...I honestly don’t know. I just couldn’t help but think of that mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes, the cocky smile that always seemed to be on his face...Like, really! _What the hell was I thinking._

Before I knew it, Sealand was right beside me, asking if I acknowledged him as a country. As if. So I got to sit through his rants...

 


	30. Chapter 30

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Oh God damn it.

Holy Scandinavia.

Shit on a sandwich.

Heavens to Betsy.

Flaming rhino balls.

 

I....... Holy shit. I...

_I kissed Norway._

I don’t know what the hell came over me. Lately, I’ve been just thinking about him. He’s showed up in my dreams for at least a few seconds literally every frickin’ night. And when I’m bored, I just naturally start thinking of him. That girly figure of his... Those _beautiful_ violet eyes... His perfect hair, his perfect face... That dorky hair clip... His insane belief in pixies and trolls... His adorable fondness of his little bro... His apathetic yet just plain bitter personality... But mostly, all the things he’s done to me over the years.

I’m not even going to list them all. You know all the recent ones already, and I won’t get into the countless crap he’s done when we were just kids. For some reason, I can never accept his obvious hatred of me. Do I wish he’d stop hitting me and stuff? Uh, YEAH. But I’ve grown used to it. Maybe even fond of it. Okay, I won’t go that far. The point is, no matter how many times he pushes me away (I lost count at a million), I keep coming back. About 95% of why that is is because that’s just how I roll. I’m Denmark. Hints? Psh, why the hell should I take them? Besides, whenever he dishes something out at me, I usually get him back at least a little. Messing with him is just too fun!

 I might as well put this on paper: I love Norway. There’s no point denying it. I think I’ve known for a while now. Why, I have no idea. I just do. Most of it is probably his looks... But maybe there’s something about his personality I love, too....

So anyway. Back to the point at hand.

I took his hair clip again, cuz that shit never gets old (again: countless evil things Norway has done to me). He was jumping for it this way and that, trying to kick my legs out from under me and stuff... At one point, he dived for it, and ended up falling into me. So I held him there. Ah, I love how he always struggles whenever I squeeze ‘im. But this time, the bear hug just wasn’t enough. Before he could get COMPLETELY worked up, I just, _kissed_ him. Grabbed him by the shoulders, leaned down, and kissed him. Right on the mouth.

Well, now he has his hair clip back. And my nose is probably broken, plus a few more teeth are loose. I could fanboy over how perfectly his mouth felt on mine, but right now I’m kinda hung up on the fact that he’s probably reached maximum hatred of me and will change his name then move halfway across the Earth. And there’s also the whole broken nose/bruised jaw thing.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Holy _shit._ He....Denmark...

Okay. So he stole my hairclip again (I’m getting used to that). We had our usual quarrel, you know...plus more.

 

He freaking kissed me.

And I _enjoyed_ it. I couldn’t help but notice how right his lips felt against mine: perfectly, almost as if we had done it many times previous to this. But no. He just grabbed me and kissed me full on the lips. Before I knew it, I had pulled back and punched him a little harder than necessary. I don’t know why, maybe just like, Norgestinct or something.

Damn it. I’m making up words. He’s rubbing off on me...


	31. Chapter 31

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I don’t think I’ve ever ranted about how fricking much I love life.

Time to do that now.

So what if my nose is broken? Finny bandaged it up all nice like the housewife he is. So what if my teeth were knocked loose? Pudding is delicious, and they’ll tighten up eventually. So what if my baby dog ran away? He’ll probably find a lady friend and make a billion babies as sexy as he is. So what if Norway almost permanently broke my hair (and about 50% of the bones in my body), hid my ax, called me hurtful things, threw out my beer, made me think he was dead, and stepped on my King of Scandinavia cape when I was little so I fell on my face? He made up for all that and more today.

Because Norway told me he was in love with me.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Okay, I’m just going to get this out of my system.

I’m in love with Denmark.

_I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark. I’m in love with Denmark._

There. I think I’m done. But today I confessed to him. And now he’s all loopy with love, and I’m locked up in my room. But I can’t stop thinking about him. Would that make me, as they say, “head over heels”?


	32. Chapter 32

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Well, we’re officially a couple now, me ‘n Norge. Finland found it adorable, Sweden just grunted when I told him, Sealand laughed hysterically, and Iceland left the house for a couple hours.

Hey, it could’ve gone worse. I mean, Norge was super pissed that I told- apparently he’s into the whole secret relationship thing- but whatevs.

But get this. We had our first boyfriend-boyfriend argument! All us Nordics got Facebook accounts, right? I sent Norge a friend request, so I could tag him in my relationship status. After a couple days, my friend requests had been accepted by America, Prussia, Iceland (I think he blocked me now though), Sweden, Finland, England, Netherlands, Sealand... Notice a name missing? Yeah. Norway DENIED my friend request! If I don’t tag him in my relationship status, people will think I’m not actually dating anyone, I just put “In a Relationship” so I didn’t look forever alone!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Just because I’m in a relationship with him does not mean he can share it all over Facebook. So naturally, I denied his friend request. I don’t want anyone knowing that I socialize with Denmark.

Although on my profile, I did put that I was in a relationship...just not with who.

                                                                                                    

Iceland seems a bit distant from me lately. It’s kind of making me feel bad...did I do something to my little brother that made him hate me forever?


	33. Chapter 33

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So I finally grew a pair and decided to ask Norway on a date. Wanna know what he said? Do you? Okay. I’ll give you the whole scene. He was sitting on the couch, reading some book called Fablehaven, looking sexual as ever, when I walked up to him and said “Hey Norge, wanna go to a fair tonight? Just you and me?” Without even glancing up from his book, he immediately says- I will never forget this response- “Sure.” My god, he is so DEEP!

So we went to the fair. There were all types of vendors, and rides, and games ‘n junk... We headed to the rides first. I paid for the tickets, cuz I’m such a fucking gentleman. Personally, I wanted to go on the Merry-Go-Round, but Norway said he’d never look at me again if I did something so childish and stupid. Killjoy.

Instead we went on the Ring of Fire. It’s basically a roller coaster that goes in one loop, and just chills at the top upside-down for a while. Google it. Everyone around us was freaking out the second it started; I was all psyched, while Norway had totally no expression. I found it hilarious that when it stopped upside-down, a bunch of peoples’ hair looked like mine does on a daily basis, so I cracked up, but Norge still looked like a statue. I kinda hoped he wasn’t dead.

Afterwards was when it got REALLY fun. I wanted to go on The Zipper, but most people got off the ride crying and looking suicidal. I mean, I know I could’ve taken it, but I was afraid Norge was too delicate. So we ended up going on this thing that looked like a spaceship, called Wipeout. I buckled me and Norge in (nobody sat in the seat facing us, so we were perfectly alone) and pulled the lap bar over us- Norway couldn’t get outta this if he tried! The whole ride rose into the air, then tilted at a weird angle, and started spinning really fast while going up and down. I screamed my ASS off the moment it started. ...Not because I was scared, but because I scream when I’m having an awesome time. Orrrr, I was screaming to be a troll and scare everyone who was waiting in line to get on. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. But that wasn’t important. What mattered was that Norway was beside me, _smiling._.. And when it reached its fastest point and I (looked like I) started having a panic attack, he started... _laughing._

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Norway laugh. Like, laugh out of legitimate pleasure. DAMN have I been missing out. It sounded... I can’t even describe it. It sounded PERFECT. It was so beautiful and hypnotizing and sexy that I started laughing too. We were being thrown all over the place- Norge was so thin that I swear he almost fell out a few times- and I think someone off to the side threw up, but we were laughing like fricking hyenas. When the ride slowed down then went backwards, I put my hands in the air, and _Norway did the same_. We were still giggling when it stopped. I was so dizzy that I was literally staggering down the ramp, and when I went to take Norge’s hand to balance myself, he tried to glare at me but still had a smile on his face so he ended up making the most adorable expression EVER.

The rest of the date was totally awesome. On all the rides that spun and made the person on the inside ram into the person on the outside at every turn (keep in mind that those rides were all circular, so they were _made_ of turns), like the Himalaya, I leaned toward Norway even though gravity told me to go the other way. Norge tried to slide away from me, but it was literally impossible and we were pressed up against each other at least 90% of the time. He looked pissed, but I know he loved it. Well, I know that _I_ loved it.

I wanted to share a bumper car with Norge- that’d be so cute, with him in my passenger seat- but he had to be an ass and insisted we get separate ones. I soon found out what game he was playing: the forget-all-other-drivers-in-the-rink-and-only-interact-with-them-if-it-was-to-push-them-out-of-the-way-on-the-way-to-ramming-into-Denmark game. And that was a game I was so willing to play. We drove into each other so hard that by the time we got off, the guy working the ride had to hang signs that said “Out of Order” on the cars we used. True story.

As badass as everything else was, the last ride we went on was definitely the best. We only had 4 tickets left, and the only ride that was only worth 2 tickets per person was the Ferris Wheel. So we spent our last tickets on that gay thing. It sounded so lame in the beginning; the only up part was that we got a booth or whatever you wanna call it to ourselves. I swear, it was going like, 3 miles an hour; being the killjoy that we all know him to be, Norway punched me in the arm when I started going “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” overenthusiastically. So the level of fun dropped back down to like, 2%.

Then something exciting happened.

The two of us were at the very top, lookin’ down at the entire fair (I spit on a few people when Norway was staring down at the parking lot), when this creepy silence suddenly settled over us. You wouldn’t even notice that the gear thingies on a Ferris Wheel make noise until they _stop_ making noise. At first, I was chill, cuz I knew that these things stopped at the top when they were letting people on. But they _weren’t_ letting people on. The line was dispersing, and they were chasing people AWAY from the ride. Call me crazy, but that seems like bad business. Turns out, the Ferris Wheel was broken. And we were stuck at the top until they called someone to fix it.

I started humming a song by some American chick called Rebecca Black to help time pass, but Norway kicked me. So I started whistling it. He glared daggers at me. Just to be an ass, I leaned as close to him as possible, whistling right into his ear, until he turned to face me so I got the full blow of his Death Glare. Keep in mind that to whistle, you have to pucker your lips. And my face was right in front of Norway’s. Can you guess what happened next? Why yes, Diary Dearest: I slowed down my beautiful whistling until I had stopped completely, and instead just leaned forward a little bit, then Norway leaned in the centimeter that was between us and BAM. We were kissing. Right at the top of the Ferris Wheel, for the world to see. Then again, what world? It was just me and Norge, our arms around each other and lips making contact over and over and over.

Damn that engineer that fixed the Ferris Wheel. Our make out was totally ruined when the ride started to move again. We got off, and get this: Norge let me hold his hand. It was silent between us until I told him that his hair looked nice (keep in mind that his hair was totally out of place and quite frankly looked like shit). He smiled at me- yes, _smiled at me_ \- and we went over to where the games were.

There was this one game where you throw darts at balloons, and you get a prize if you pop enough of them. I got 4 out of 6; Norway got 100% of them. I was almost concerned until I remembered that he had my face taped to a dart board in the basement. Then I was concerned all over again. I made up for him kicking my ass and denying a prize at the darts game by stepping up to that test-your-strength thing where you hit the platform or whatever with a hammer, and a metal thingy shoots up toward a big bell at the top. If you can make the bell ring, you can win a prize. The shelves were filled with prizes that looked like they were getting covered in dust, so obviously, you had to be super macho to ring the bell.

Guess who rang the bell and won a bigass pink stuffed bunny for Norway? _This guy._

We did not leave the park like normal citizens. We left the park by security escorting us out. Why, you ask? Because the last game we played was that one where you aim a stream of water at a target, and shooting the target makes a platform rise and whoever’s platform reaches the top first wins. Norway and I intended to kick each other’s asses in the game... but the second the lady said “go,” Norway turned his water pistol toward me and pulled the trigger. Shooting him with my own gun was simply a natural defense mechanism! Too bad they turned off the water and shooed us back into the parking lot before we could get too wet.

The car ride home was silent except for the radio, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. I wish Norway was having the same thoughts as me at the time, because that would mean he was thinking that that was the best night of his life, and that kiss on the Ferris Wheel was the best _kiss_ of his life.

 

**Norway**

_Dear Diary,_

As usual, I was sitting on the couch reading my Fablehaven series when suddenly my idiot of a boyfriend (...that has a nice ring to it) decided to walk up to me. He said, and I quote, “Hey Norge, wanna go to a fair tonight? Just you and me?” Pretending to still be reading, not that my heart had started fluttering, I said simply, “Sure.”

And that night we had gone to the fair. It was basically what everyone said about them: junk food, rides, games, and the silly little shopping area. Denmark, being the total idiot he is, was begging me to go on the Merry-Go-Round, but really. That’s fairly childish if you ask me. So instead we went on the Ring of Fire. It’s just a roller coaster in an upright circle and it stops at the top for a while so you’re kind of just hanging there. It was a bit lame, but I couldn’t help but think to myself how amused Denmark looked. He kept saying how hilarious is was that all these people had hair just like his was on a daily basis when we were just hanging upside down (I was a bit paranoid that my hairclip would fall out...luckily, it didn’t). That ride just bored me, quite frankly.

However, the next event even shocked _me_. I kept seeing Denmark stealing glances at something called the Zipper, but I dragged him away when I saw most people getting off looked like they wanted to vomit or even just kill themselves. Therefore we went on some ride shaped like a circle, all the seats around the outside edge. Apparently it was called the Wipeout, according to Denmark. No one sat in the seat facing us; we were totally alone. So when the ride started spinning, I was immediately thrown against Denmark. Stupid gravitational pull. But then the ride started tilting at a strange angle, and I was practically being thrown around. Denmark was screaming his ass off already, and it wasn’t even at its fastest point yet. And, okay. I couldn’t help myself. For once in my lifetime, I actually _smiled._ This was way too fun. The ride finally sped up and was going crazy fast, and that’s when I lost it! I was actually laughing! And not at Denmark’s pain, no...because this was really fun. The ride soon slowed down, but then it unexpectedly started going backwards. Denmark put his hands in the air, laughing...and so did I. Denmark was so dizzy when we got off, he literally staggered to the exit ramp. He reached for my hand to support himself, and I tried glaring, but I was smiling too much to manage a glare. So I let him hold my hand.

So every ride that we went on, the person on the inside would be rammed against the person on the outside at every turn. And all these rides were circular. So you can see how that went. When Dane suggested that we go on the bumper cars, I immediately dragged him over there and insisted we get separate cars. Denmark couldn’t seem to figure out why. Until we started driving. I wasn’t really aiming for anyone else; I just wanted to hit him. And in the end, we had hit each other so hard and so many times, the guy working there had to pull the cars away with “Out of Order” signs on them.

The last ride we went on, however, was most certainly the best. We only had four tickets left, I noticed, and I didn’t want to waste them. The only ride worth two tickets per person was the Ferris Wheel. Yeah, sounds lame. But oh, it so wasn’t. A while ago, I probably would’ve died if Denmark and I had to share one of the carts or whatever they’re called. But this time, I was excited (on the inside, of course). The thing was going really slow, and the only way I could entertain myself was to hit Denmark when he shouted “WEEEEE” just to get on my nerves. But then, as soon as we got to the very top, the whole thing just stopped. And it didn’t just stop like it does when they’re letting someone off, no. The whole thing practically shut itself down. And honestly, it terrified me when the seat had started rocking back and forth when it stopped moving.

Okay. The Ferris Wheel was broken. Big deal. We just had to wait here until the engineer could come and fix it. Denmark started humming this annoying song, so I just glared at him. He stopped humming, but then just started whistling it. I don’t even know what the hell he was whistling, but it was quite annoying. As if just to get on my nerves, he leaned really close to me (the seat was rocking dangerously, and I did _not_ feel like dying today) and whistled right in my ear. I turned to face him completely, just _wishing_ he’d shut up...

And that’s when it happened. He slowed down his whistling until he stopped completely, leaning forward slightly. Naturally, I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips against his. So what if we were at the top of the Ferris Wheel for the whole world to see? So what if the seats were rocking? So what if people called us gay? I didn’t care. It felt like it was just us up there, arms around each other and kissing passionately. I loved him. I love him. I still do. But then the whole thing jerked and we were moving again. I secretly wished the Ferris Wheel would’ve never been fixed. When we got off there was a whole awkward silence between us until Denmark commented on my hair, saying it looked nice. I shrugged, knowing he just said that for lack of better words. And he may think that he reached first, but I reached my hand out to his and we entwined our fingers together. His expression showed he was obviously surprised. Whatever.

We came to find ourselves playing one of those dart games where you have to throw darts at the balloons suspended on a wall. Denmark got about four out of the six; I got every single one of them. Let’s just say I’ve had practice with that dartboard downstairs. Which reminds me...I need to take his face off of there. The next thing he did just shocked me. Denmark ran over to one of those test-your-strength things where you use the hammer and try to ring the bell at the top. Denmark didn’t even look like he hit it that hard and it rang out. And he got this prize, a pink stuffed bunny, and gave it to me.

Now I don’t know what came over me, but when we went to one of those games where you have to shoot the stream of water at the target to rise the platform, I turned the pistol at Denmark and we had a brief water war. But leave it to security to turn off the water and escort us back to our car.

The whole car ride was silent except the fuzzy sound of the radio, but it was barely turned up. I fiddled with one of the ears on the rabbit, occasionally glancing at Denmark. I couldn’t seem to get the scene from the Ferris Wheel out of my head. We kissed. Deeply. In front of everyone. Who cares.

I just wanted to kiss him again.


	34. Chapter 34

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So I’ve been thinking. Sweden and Finland are uber in love, and they have Hanatamago and a Sealand. Iceland is dating Hong Kong, and helps him with his panda. So why can’t me and Norway have a pet? I admit to shedding a couple tears, because “pet” made me think of Mathias Junior....

Anyway. I started out big. Norway was chilling on the couch, reading his _Fablehaven_ (he already got onto Book 2, that overachiever), so I plopped myself next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. He barely even glanced up at me, as if we do this every day. Maybe we SHOULD, since he’s fine with it.... I clicked on the TV, and Animal Planet was on. Perfect.

It was one of those Animal Cops shows, and they were arresting a guy for mistreating horses. Thank you, television schedule, for giving me the perfect lead! “Norway, we should get a horse.” That made him look at me. With no more than 3 seconds of thinking it over, he told me no. Okay, maybe a horse was a little too much to ask.

“What about a pony?”

“No.”

Well then. “A cat? Cats are cool.” Actually, I think most cats are pretty lame, but i just wanted an animal to share with Norge!

“Hanatamago counts as a cat.”

“But she isn’t OUR cat!”

“Whatever.” Normally, I’d just find his difficulty sexy. But at the moment it was sexy AND frustrating.

I named every pet I could think of- lizard, hamster, goldfish, puppy... Norway declined EVERYTHING. I was just about to suggest a giraffe when he asked why the hell I kept saying _we_ should get a pet, not _I._ I told him it’d be super coupley material, and the animal would be like our little baby..... That’s when he left the room. I bet he thinks I didn’t notice him blushing as he did so.

 

**Norway**

_Dear Diary,_

Denmark must be missing Mathias Junior, because as I was reading the second book of _Fablehaven_ he plops down next to me on the couch and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I didn’t move. I figured I should let him now, since we’re...a couple.

He clicks the television onto Animal Planet. Oh no. Here we go. As he’s watching some Animal Cops show or whatever, he turns to me. “Norway, we should get a horse.” I just stared at him and responded with, “No.” He kept asking for animals, too. Think of every animal you know. There’s the list of things he was asking for. Finally I just asked, “Denmark, _why_ do you keep saying _we_ should get a pet instead of just you getting a pet?” And he responded with the fact that it was just a coupley thing to do. That it would be like our little “baby”. Okay. Maybe I wanted a puppy at that point. But I wasn’t going to say that. I just closed my book and left, hoping he didn’t notice the rising blush to my face.


	35. Chapter 35

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I love Norway. Have I ever said that I love Norway? Because I love him. I love him, I love him, _I love him_. You’re probably wondering what’s with the random explosion of affection. Well, that’s because yesterday was our one-month anniversary. I can’t believe that it’s been an entire _month_ since the guy I’ve been unknowingly chasing my whole life became my boyfriend.

And guess what that fucking amazing boyfriend did.

Since I need to get lots of beauty sleep to keep my dead-sexy face looking like it does, I sleep in a lot. I would’ve today, if there wasn’t this God-awful sound coming from downstairs. It kinda sounded like when a swing set needs to be oiled, so it makes this whiney sound when you use it. Being the king that I am, I needed to defend my fortress, so I went downstairs to investigate.

When I got on the stairs, I could hear something else: Norway muttering “Shut up, _shut up!”_ It was kind of working, because the sound did get quieter and eventually let up completely. But I was way too curious to forget about it. I tiptoed all ninja-like into the kitchen... Mathias Junior’s old cage was there. Someone had brought it back up from the basement. And its door was open. And Norway was kneeling beside it, tugging on something. I got closer, and I swear I squealed/gasped like a (manly) little girl.

Norway was trying to lead a puppy into the cage.

He looked exactly like Mathias Junior. Well, except for the color of his fur. He was all black, with this big white spot on his chest. If he wasn’t so big, at first glance I’d think he was a dumb ol’ labrador, not a Great Dane.

It’s like he knew how much I already loved him, because he stopped protesting being thrown in the cage, looked at me, and ran over so quickly that he pulled the leash right out of Norge’s hands. The classic look of “Crap-I’m-fucked” on Norway’s face plus having a puppy jump on me and lick my hands all over was enough to make me laugh so hard I think I cried a little. And then the combination of laughter and a bigass dog jumping on me literally knocked me onto my ass, and now the dog was licking my face. I paused laughing just long enough to ask Norway what its name was, and he muttered something about letting me name him. So I swallowed my giggles, sat up, and let the dog try to fit himself on my lap. Normally it would be too early in the morning to put on my thinking cap, but this was some serious shit.

It was as if I’d been waiting my whole life for this moment. Like I’d planned all along what I was going to name this dog. “Ringnes.” Norway just stared at me, then he smiled a _tiny_ bit and nodded.

I tried to get answers out of Norway, and although I didn’t get many I’m glad I got some at all. He woke up way early to go to the shelter and pick up Ringnes. I couldn’t put into words how fricking happy this whole thing made me. The dog was perfect- the best thing anyone could ever get for me. A “thank you” just wouldn’t cut it, so when Ringnes got off my lap to stick his head in a bag of food, I pulled Norway onto the floor with me and kissed him right on the mouth. I held him there for a good amount of time, and guess what? _I tongued him_. He was blushing so bad that I could feel his face heat up, but he did the same to me in return.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Ringnes a bunch. But I was kind of pissed that he hopped in between us and licked Norway’s face right when the kiss was really getting steamy. I can’t deny that it was pretty hilarious, though, and besides: I’d have plenty more opportunities to make out with Norway. So I sat there cracking up, leaning against Norway, and petting Ringnes all over, feeling confident that the three of us would have many years together as a real happy family.

 

**Norway**

_Dear Diary,_

Today was my one-month anniversary with Denmark. Has it really been that long since I started dating him? I decided to do something nice for him for once. This morning I woke up early--at what, five o’ clock?-- to go to the dog shelter. I felt really bad for that one time when I left the door open so Mathias Junior would run away, so I searched the shelter until I came across this Great Dane puppy. He was completely black, except for this one white spot on his chest. Okay, he was too adorable. I somehow knew that this was the dog, and I brought him home. The whole car ride he tried to get up in my face and lick me, but I put up with it until we got home. I left him in the car for a few minutes while I went to go get Mathias Junior’s old cage, then attached the leash to his new collar I had bought and led him inside. He was whining, which really irritated me, and I kept having to shush him. I practically dragged him to the kitchen to the cage, attempting to tug him inside of it. This puppy was stubborn, and refused to go in the cage.

Then his ears perked up and he stared behind me at something. I turned around to see Denmark with this look on his face like, “What the hell is that?” The puppy shot across the kitchen to him, yanking the leash out of my hand (which is not a pleasant feeling). He pounced on Denmark, pushing him to the ground and licking him all over. He was laughing so hard with such pleasure, I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

He stopped laughing, continuing to let the dog lick him. Then he said, “What’s his name?” I paused, muttering, “You can name it.” And so he did. He named it Ringnes. Yes, I loved that name. And Ringnes it was. I had to explain to him all that I had done to get this dog, and Denmark’s face the whole time clearly showed his gratitude. However, when Ringnes went to go stick his head in some bag of food I brought home for him, Denmark grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me onto his lap, kissing me. I couldn’t escape his embrace; not that I’d want to. Just when I thought it was getting good, he somehow managed to get my mouth open and tongue me. And I let him. And returned the favor.

Our moment was ruined when Ringnes bounded over and pushed us apart, licking me full in the face. Denmark cracked up, leaning into me as he pretty much died of laughter. Whatever. I’m sure Denmark will have plenty of chances to kiss me. As we pet Ringnes, I could already tell that he would be staying with us for a while.


	36. Chapter 36

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Something freaky happened today. Like, REALLY FREAKY. I’ve seen Sweden’s people be massacred during the Stockholm Bloodbath; I’ve seen vikings burn peoples’ homes to the ground; I’ve seen Kristen Stewart attempt to smile. But I have never been as terrified as I was when..... When I saw Norway cry.

 I don’t even understand what happened! We were bonding over a walk in the woods, holding hands and chatting (well, _I_ was talking; Norway was looking around and murmuring replies like “Yeah” and “Really?”). Everything was just so dandy, until Norway stopped dead in his tracks as if he saw a lion standing up ahead. Louder than he’s been all day, he goes, “Denmark, watch where you’re stepping.” I just glance over my shoulder, then down at my feet, expecting there to be a snake or a bear trap or a hole there. There was nothing but a little group of plain white mushrooms. I just shrugged and kept on walking, maybe crushing a few of the mushrooms as I went. The second I did so, Norway shrieked bloody murdered and kneeled over the crippled mushrooms, whispering frantically in Norwegian. I asked him if he was feeling alright- I mean, you’d have to be on SOMETHING if you’re talking to mushrooms- and he just glared up at me with watering eyes. He looked so ready to kill me that I instinctively backed away, and ended up turning and running like hell back to the house. I still, though, caught a glimpse of tears falling down his face, his head hung and shoulders quivering slightly.

I don’t fricking get it! He’s NORWAY. I didn’t think he _could_ cry, and there he was, sobbing over a few crushed mushrooms! As if that wasn’t bad enough, he gave me the silent treatment for the next couple days. He’s talking to me again... But it took a while for him to stop looking like he was gonna vomit his guts out whenever he was in my presence.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Okay. I’m going to try and write this without staining the pages with tears...So Denmark and I were just walking hand-in-hand in the forest. I was listening to some of the pixies while they told me stories about their recent findings or adventures. As we were walking, I froze in my tracks. Denmark stopped as well, glancing down at me and looking worried. “Denmark, watch where you’re stepping.” I said. Denmark looked ahead, noticing the patch of white mushrooms on the forest floor in front of him. Several pixies were sitting under them, chatting and eating little fairy cookies. I could hear their high-pitched giggles, but when Denmark took a step forward...

He crushed the mushrooms, stepping on several of the pixies. I heard a shriek escape my lips and I rushed over, crouching next to them, muttering things like, “Det er greit...Du er greit...Vennligst ikke dø...!” to the injured fairies. One looked up at me, opened her mouth as if to say something, but then died right there. I swear, I’ve never cried harder. Denmark asked if I was alright, but I just glared up at him. Couldn’t he see that he just killed some of my best friends?! Obviously not, because he didn’t say anything. He just backed away, looking terrified. And with good reason!

I didn’t talk to him for quite a few days...How could I? He was a murderer.

Although I’m talking to him now...And verbally, I’ve forgiven him. But can I mentally?


	37. Chapter 37

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Norway is still kinda mad at me, and obviously, I can NOT live with that. I finally get him to love me, then he goes and hates me cuz I stepped on some stupid mushrooms?! I hoped that taking him out for dinner would at least begin to make up for whatever it is that I apparently did.

I took him to this Chinese restaurant, cuz I hear the food there is really good. It better be; if the dinner turned out to be crap, I bet Norway would break up with me in a heartbeat. I didn’t know what the hell half the shit on the menu was- I mean, the Pu Pu Platter? I laughed about that for a good 3 minutes. We ended up getting some type of teriyaki beef and chicken, with fried rice. Norway looked real irritated, so to try and lift his mood I kept blowing straw wrappers at him. He just glanced at me for a moment before returning to glaring at the floor. I knew this was gonna be a long, awkward, and quiet dinner.

On the upside, the food actually wasn’t half bad. And when we were done, the waiter brought us these funny looking cookie things, free of charge! I almost ate mine whole, until Norway told me that there was a fortune inside of it. I thought this was more of his mystical mumbo-jumbo, but when I broke the cookie in half there was a little slip of paper inside. I remembered having one of those cookies at America’s house... The fortunes were usually really stupid, so he added stuff (like “in bed”) at the end of each one. Smirking slightly, I decided on an ending to latch onto it and read mine out loud in a rather offensive take on a Chinese accent: “Do not wait for life to open the right door; find a door and open it yourself while doing Norge in the ass.”

Personally, I found that hilarious. I almost started laughing, until Norway pushed his chair back and stormed out of the restaurant. I don’t think a grin has ever faded from my face so quickly.

Norway took the car home, so not only did I pay for dinner, I had to walk 10 miles home. I think our relationship is going down the toilet, and fast....

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Does he _want_ to end our relationship? He keep doing these things to piss me off, I swear! Today he took me to some Chinese restaurant (I don’t even _like_ Chinese). Want to know the worst part? When he got his fortune cookie, he added something to the end of it. So instead of it just being some normal fortune, no. It was the fortune plus “While doing Norge in the ass” at the end. What the hell made him say that? I left after that, taking the car. Good. He can pay _and_ walk home tonight.

But damn it, I still love him. Even after all these things...


	38. Chapter 38

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I finally got to the bottom of why exactly Norway is so mad at me. Well, first off, he doesn’t like Chinese food. I need to remember that. But the main thing is that apparently, when I crushed those mushrooms... I killed a bunch of pixies. He KNOWS I don’t believe in those damn magical friends of his, but I knew this was not a good time to counter his logic. So, keeping my mouth shut for once, I made a split-second decision and dragged Norway out to the forest.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve gotten in lots of struggles and scraps before. But Norway has NEVER resisted me like he did now. I guess he thought I was some homicidal maniac, heading out to destroy an entire village worth of pixies. He dug his heels into the ground and tried to yank himself free so hard that I actually felt my wrist pop. Still, I channeled all my strength into my one arm and managed to drag him to the edge of the forest. I felt totally crazy for saying something like this, but I asked him if there were any pixies nearby; he muttered something about them hiding from me. Well, as long as they were apparently there....

As loud as I could make my voice, I said: “Look, fairies or pixies or whatever magical thingies that are afraid of me now. I didn’t mean to... kill your friends. As I’m sure dear Lukas here has told you, I’m not, er, _bright enough_ to see you guys. I wouldn’t even know you existed if Lukas had never told me about you. So... I had NO intent of hurting any of you, and I feel really, REALLY bad. If there’s any way I could help... I dunno, like, I could throw some funeral.... I know for one thing, I’ll stay out of your forest so I don’t do something else I regret. If there’s any other favor you need, just tell Lukas and-”

Obviously, I was on a roll. But I didn’t get to finish my badass, surprisingly legit speech, because Norway cut me off. I’m not complaining, though... because he interrupted me with a kiss. He didn’t smile at me, but I guess that was too much to ask for anyway. Instead, he led me into the forest and told me exactly where not to step and everything. He led me to what looked like a thin pile of leaves, but he told me it was a pixie graveyard. Yeah, okay.

He pointed at random bare spots, and had me find “the nicest leaves” and lay them there. At the time, it seemed INCREDIBLY stupid and it felt like I wasn’t doing anything besides rearranging a pile of leaves... But it made Norway so much happier, and he held my hand tightly on the way back home, so I’m glad I did it.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I was already concerned when Denmark began dragging me into the forest. I did not want to go anywhere with him at the moment, let’s just say that. I dug my heels in the dirt, yanking my hand from his. Well, I attempted to. He’s so much stronger than me, and sadly he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. He pulled me to the edge of the forest, gripping my arm quite painfully. What he did next really shocked me, though. He opened his big mouth and gave a whole speech to the magical creatures of the forest, apologizing for killing the fairies.

And as sweet as it was, he was annoying me. So I grabbed his tie, yanked him down to my level, and kissed him. Just to shut him up. Several of the fairies giggled, squealed, and “aww”ed at us, but I ignored them.

After that I led him into the forest to the graveyard. I made him find the nicest leaves he could to lay over the pixies’ bodies, and he did. I smiled to myself, taking his hand and going back inside.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains minor smut.

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I’m loving having Norway not hate me anymore. It feels like this big weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that he’s content with me. Thank GOD I can be deep, because without that little speech I might’ve gotten my heart and/or bones broken by the love of my life (yeah. I’ve officially decided that’s what he is).

We’ve been going good for a while now- we take Ringnes for walks together, and make fun of movies on TV, and kiss at least once a day, and all that romantic junk- and our two month anniversary was last week. I had the perfect plan for my “gift.” I knew I needed to make up for him getting me Ringnes, so what, you ask, was I to do?

I asked Norway if we could take our relationship to the next level.

He looked as flustered as a Norway can get when I brought it up, but then I told him that my “next level” was sharing a room. We decided that for the sake of space, he’d still keep his stuff in his room, but every night, he’s now going to sleep in my bed.

The first night we tried this was about 3 days before our two month anniversary. I tried to cuddle up with him, but he was having none of that and we ended up sleeping with our backs to each other. Not only that, but he _made me put a shirt on_. Who does he think he is? I ALWAYS sleep in just my boxers! But whatever, I wasn’t going to have him go back to his own room just for the sake of being shirtless.

The second night, he let me wrap my arms around him from behind. The third, we slept with our _chests_ pressed together instead of our backs. It would’ve been so much better if we had been in that position while I was shirtless, but I guess I can’t complain.

Especially because of what happened on the night of our two month anniversary.

All day, Norway had been treating it like any other day except for the fact that for once, he leaned his head on my shoulder while we watched TV. I just couldn’t live with that. That night, when Norway climbed into bed in these plain, silky pajamas, I knew it was time to put my plan into action.

I sat on the edge of the bed in my usual nighttime ensemble: boxers and no shirt. Norway glared at me, waiting for me to put something on, but I didn’t. Instead, I lunged forward and kissed him. I hoped he could tell that I wasn’t aiming for a regular good-night kiss. To help get my point across, I kept coming back, pulling away only for brief seconds of air. His arms eventually wound around my back (his hands felt so cold on my bare skin), and I tangled my fingers into his hair. I reminded him that Ringnes was sleeping in his crate tonight, and Norway immediately took the hint: he slid his tongue into my mouth, and I did the same to him.

It wasn’t long before Norway was leaning back against the headboard, our mouths rarely losing contact. I slid my hands down onto his shoulders, then to his biceps, then across his chest to the buttons of his shirt. I frowned when he pulled away from my kiss and kept his mouth closed; I saw him staring at me with widened eyes and an expression that clearly said: “How far are we going with this?” I answered with a smirk and proceeded to plant kisses on his neck while I undid all of his buttons, taking my time to remove his top before casually flinging it aside.

It was adorable, really, how obviously inexperienced Norway was. He just sat there almost uselessly while I sucked on his neck, working on making a nice hickey right there. In fact, if not for the occasional gasp or shiver of pleasure, I would think Norway was a statue. I was content with what I was doing, and managed to push down the want for him to give me something in return... Thankfully, though, he finally pushed me away and practically pounced at me, slamming me back against the bed. Angry little Norwegian, wasn’t he? He began doing to me what I had been doing to him mere seconds ago, except right when he found that one spot on my neck that made my whole body shudder, he started planting a trail of kisses down my chest, then abdomen, then around the brim of my boxers. I smirked, pushing myself upright to kiss the top of Norway’s head. He tossed a slight glare at me, like I was some inconvenience to him. Hello, I was the one who was about to take his virginity! He should be _grateful._

And quicker. I wanted this to HAPPEN.

Being a king for a long portion of your life gives you this sense of power that you can’t really get over. So, I wasn’t too happy with Norge being on top of me. I lied back onto my back, wrapping my arms around his waist, and then rolled him underneath me. He scowled up at me, but I could feel his heart beating crazy fast. Good. I grabbed hold of his pants and shimmied them off of him; Norway kicked them onto the floor when they reached his ankles. I curled my fingers over the brim of his boxers, but that’s when he grabbed my wrist.

I have never seen Norway look so nervous in his life. He asked what the hell I was doing; with a smirk, I put on my clever hat and repeated my ad-libbed fortune from that Chinese restaurant. Damn, Norway’s face can turn RED! He let go of my wrist, though, and let me remove his boxers. I did so slowly, kissing him roughly on the lips the whole time. I then yanked off my own boxers and tossed them aside, allowing my eyes to drift toward the southern part of Norway. For a guy with such a girly figure, _man_ did he have a dick on him! He slapped me when he noticed where I had begun to stare, but hey, it was worth it.

Now, Diary, I’ve already tainted your innocence enough. So I’ll just tell you that having my way with Norway was the best thing I’d done in my life. Seeing his knuckles turn white as he gripped the sheets... Feeling myself inside him... Hearing him gasp and plead my name... I admit I’ve had a few erotic dreams that went like this, but holy shit, it was 500 times better in real life. By the time I was done, we were both panting and ended up collapsing when we came. We took a moment to catch our breaths before resorting to kissing passionately, making sure our naked bodies were as close together as possible.

I could tell Norway was exhausted. So I suggested we end it there, and rolled out of bed to get a towel to clean up after ourselves. After throwing on a robe, returning Norway’s pajamas to him, and curling up under the blankets with our arms wound around each other, I promised Norway that we’d try every single position out there. He glared pathetically at me for a moment, but then nodded slightly and drifted off to sleep, right there in my arms.

In short: best fucking night, EVER. Literally.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

When I woke up the morning after our two month anniversary, all the memories of last night flooded into me. Denmark on top of me, kissing me, _in_ me...I blushed immediately at the thoughts, staring at Denmark while he slept. I felt dirty then, remembering I had had sex with him the night before.

I never thought I would, honestly. I’ve always hated him. We were childhood friends! But when we started dating...damn, I knew this would eventually happen. I pressed my face into the pillow, listening to Denmark’s slow breathing next to me. When I turned to face him, those blue orbs of his were staring right at me, a cocky grin on his face. “Morning, Norge.” He had said, and I muttered “Good morning” back to him.

 

Damn. I just remembered...Iceland has the room next to Denmark.


	40. Chapter 40

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Icey’s never exactly been thrilled with me and Norge’s relationship. It’s probably cuz he doesn’t like either of us, so seeing us be happy together makes him, well, _un_ happy. So while I was letting Norway eat off of my fork at lunch, and Iceland was bellyaching about it, I suggested we ship him off to Hong Kong’s house- all in good fun, I didn’t really mean it. But Iceland seemed to think it was a good idea, because he left and didn’t come back for at least 8 hours (not that I really noticed, since I was caught up with Norge and Ringnes. Plus I spent a while telling Sealand that when Ringnes gets bigger, he IS NOT allowed to ride him like a horse. ...Again. That kid reminds me so much of myself at that age).

Iceland didn’t even announce his presence when he came home. He just let the door close behind him, and kinda floated inside. He was blushing a little bit, with this dazed look in his eye. I knew something was up when he didn’t react to me making out with Norway on the couch- normally he at LEAST scowls or rolls his eyes. I pulled away from Norway (I think I saw him pout at that, or maybe that was just my active imagination) and grinned at his little bro. Still just messing around, I pretty much sang: “Somebody just got kissed~” Iceland’s face turned 5 times redder, and Mr. Puffin’s all like: “What was your first clue? He got so much sugar on the way out the door, you might as well call him Willie Wanka.” Iceland glared daggers at his bird (his angry face kinda reminds me of Norway’s) before storming up to his bedroom.

So there ya have it. Little Icey apparently got his first kiss. I went to resume my business with Norway, but when I turned back toward him he was standing up and leaving the room and Ringnes was jumping onto the couch to take his place.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

It almost makes me sad to see that my dearest brother doesn’t appreciate my relationship with Denmark. I knew he never really liked Denmark, but come on. Can’t he at least save the glares to himself?

During lunch one day, as Denmark was basically feeding me, Iceland’s attitude was quite obvious. So Denmark had jokingly told him to go to Hong Kong’s house. Which he took quite literally and stormed out the door. I kept worrying about him, looking at the clock every few minutes. When would he come home?

At around eight, he finally walked in the door. But he almost went unnoticed; he didn’t even comment about the fact that Denmark was pinning me to the couch and sticking his tongue down my throat. He just floated by, this dazed look on his face. Denmark pulled away from me, smirking as he said, “Someone got kissed~!” Iceland blushed deeply, and his puffin responded with something witty as usual. And with that Iceland locked himself in his bedroom.

So it was true! Iceland had been kissed by Hong Kong, who I didn’t even know he had a relationship with. I had to complain to _someone._ So I chose my fairies. I got up from my place on the couch, pulled on my jacket, and went out to the forest. Most of them were asleep already, but that didn’t stop me from shouting out to them. A few zipped by, landing on a branch in front of me and greeting me happily.

“My little brother’s growing up,” I had muttered. “He got his first kiss.” The pixies gasped, a few of them squealing. They stayed silent most of the time as I ranted about not wanting Iceland to grow up, and I eventually ran out of things to say. I went back inside (It was already nine thirty; where did the time go?) and went up to bed. What a day.


	41. Chapter 41

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So last night I learned that Norway’s a sleep-talker. Normally, I fall asleep before him, but last night I’d had a candy bar or two before bed so I just couldn’t get my eyes to close. I was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, one arm under Norway and the other behind my head, tapping my foot all jittery-like. Norway whispered something _really_ quietly, so I glanced over at him in case he was talking to me. But he was fast asleep. Ooh, was he having a wet dream about me? That sure would be interesting...

I love Norway. You know I love Norway. But if he ever breaks up with me, I need blackmail. So, all silently like a ninja, I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed my iPhone, then hit “Record” under the video camera.

Wet dream? Man was I off. He murmured, sounding kinda wasted: “I bought it just for you.” Bought what? “I’ll love you even more if you wear it.” Aw, he really WAS dreaming about me! Screw blackmail, I could save this baby for a _wedding_ anniversary. “If not for me, then... for Hong Kong.” Shit. He was dreaming about _Iceland_. Gag. “You’d look really beautiful in it..... Our mother used to wear the same type of dress.” I bit my tongue so I didn’t laugh. What the hell WAS this dream?

The next morning, Norway woke up before me. I reached for my phone to check for texts, and saw that my photo/video album was open. ...The video of Norway’s adorable little dream rant was gone. Well, I can see his beautifully peaceful sleeping face every night now. I decided to let that go and went on to get dressed and everything.

Norway was especially quiet and irritable-looking for the rest of the day. He wouldn’t even let me kiss him. Actually, he looked kind of... _embarrassed._ ...Aww.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I had the weirdest dream last night...Iceland was there, right? But the funny thing was, it was just him and me in the dream. No one else. I give him this box, and when he opened it, he pulled out this poufy dress. It had lace and frills on the cuffs, plus several layers of cloth for the skirt. He had blushed deeply, shoving it back at me. “Come on...I bought it just for you.” I said. Iceland just stared at me, then shook his head. “I’ll love you even more if you wear it,” I took a step closer to him. Again, he didn’t speak. Just shook his head. “Okay, fine. If not for me, then for Hong Kong?” His eyes widened, and he was still speechless.

“No.” He said simply. I had actually pouted, shoving the dress back at him. “You’d look really beautiful in it. Our mother used to wear the same kind of dress.” What? We didn’t even _have_ a mother. It looked as if he used all his will to finally go into a changing room and put the dress on.

It really did compliment his girly figure. He mumbled some curses in Icelandic under his breath, and that’s when the dream ended.

When I woke up I saw that Denmark had fallen asleep next to me with his phone in his hand. I carefully picked his phone up, curiously sliding my finger across the screen to unlock it. Okay. There was a video...of me...sleeping. I didn’t even dare watch it. I deleted it immediately and carefully put his phone on the nightstand, making my way down the stairs to feed Ringnes his breakfast.


	42. Chapter 42

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So today I took Ringnes for a walk by myself, cuz Norway was being all pissy about his bro’s romance so he went to complain to his pixie friends. So I was jogging down the street, only wearing one of my sexy tank tops, Ringnes trotting along beside me on his adorable too-big-for-his-body paws. I noticed someone coming toward me, and when they got closer I saw that they were a young woman whom I’d find damn attractive if I wasn’t dating Norway. She had a Great Dane, too- it was all gray, but it wasn’t a bland gray; it was actually kinda pretty.... I think it’s called “blue” when it comes to the color of doggy fur.

So anyway, this babe was walking her dog, which was only a teensy bit bigger than Ringnes. It must still be a puppy too. She slowed down when she got closer to me, and let out this high-pitched gasp. “Oh my gosh, he’s so _handsome!_ ” I was about to say “Sorry bitch, I’m taken,” when I realized she was talking about Ringnes. I swear that dog can speak Human, because he stood up all nice and tall and wagged his tail. That’s my boy.

But then his posture totally fell apart. He caught sight of the lady’s dog, and immediately lost all cockiness. He slouched slightly, stiffened, and stuck out his tongue a little bit. The other Great Dane trotted over and sniffed Ringnes’s ass; gotta love the classiness of dogs. But he looked really freaking proud of himself, and started wagging his tail again, then crouched down in his I-wanna-play-with-you pose.

The lady said something about how they really seemed to be clicking, then asked where I lived. Stalker much? Still, I told her, and she gave me this big creepy grin and asked if Ringnes was neutered. Ohh, so his new buddy was a _girl_ Great Dane!

“I know this is really sudden, but maybe we could breed them when they get older!” she said all excited-like. I told her we’d have to let them bond some more, and so we made plans to meet up again. Turns out her name was Brittney, and her dog’s name was Pixie. Ironic, right? Well, I told her I’d see her later and turned around, running back home. I could feel her eyes still glued to me as I left... God, why do I have to be so attractive?

Norway had the funniest look on his face when I told him I found Ringnes’s baby mama. He also looked really pissed when he saw me hang Brittney’s number on the fridge...

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Who does he think he is, getting girls’ numbers? AND deciding that he would breed dogs with random strangers? He’s such an idiot...

He comes home all happy, taking the leash off Ringnes’s collar. Ringnes was all jumpy (more than usual), and practically bouncing around the kitchen. Denmark then said quite loudly, “RINGNES IS TOTALLY IN LOVE.” Then he comes up and tells me that he met some woman who was also walking a Great Dane dog, this one female. And that we were going to breed Ringnes with this dog. What was he even thinking? Then he goes and hangs this woman’s phone number on the fridge?

 

I’m not jealous. At all...


	43. Chapter 43

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Today, we went bowling. “We” being the Nordic 5, cuz Finland pawned Sealand off on Latvia or something. There was supposed to be a waiting period, but I showed them some ID and they made some people leave their station cuz, y’know, we’re like ROYALTY around here. The shoes we gotta wear were totally hideous, but I’m sure _I_ made them look sexual. I would think Norge would too, but nah, he looked like a total dork. It was adorable.

You know what else was adorable? The fact that Norge didn’t know how to bowl. So I had to get up behind him, and guide his arm. He almost got a strike on the first time, but ONLY cuz I was helping him. On his second turn, when he had the ball to himself, he got a gutter ball. Loser :) He wasn’t very grateful for my help, though... I kept making HILARIOUS jokes about bowling balls (including “How heavy do you want your balls?” “Which color balls do you prefer?” “Slide your fingers in the hole...” “Firmly hold the ball.”) But he didn’t find it funny at all. That douchebag hit me, HARD, and was all like “There are children nearby.” Yeah, cuz I gave a fuck.

Anyway, I was totally kicking ass. Well, actually, Sve was kicking ass. He put like, no feeling into it, but kept getting strikes! Finland got WAY too into it, and tried WAY too hard, but he smiled off every gutter ball, and when he managed to knock over 2 pins, he almost gave himself a heart attack from getting so excited.

Icey wasn’t doing crazy good, but he was alright. He started in fourth place, and ended there. I, being the most awesome king of Scandinavia, got FIRST. Sweden got second, my beloved Norway got third, and of course, silly ol’ Finny got last.

We chilled at the food court afterwards, and guess what they had there? BEER. _Ringnes_ beer, too. So of course I got that shit. Killjoy Norway just got a soda... I tried to make him play the French fry game with me- you know, where we chew on both sides of the fry till we’re kissing- but he smacked me and sat on Iceland’s side of the table. So I was stuck with the lovebirds. Fantastic.

It’s okay that Norge wouldn’t be mushy with me in public, and that he purposely stepped on my feet while I was changing into my bowling shoes (he had already changed into his, so, OW), because he made up for it that night. Let me tell you: Norway is so shy when it comes to topping. He was all flustered and made it obvious he didn’t know what he was doing. In the end, he actually told me to stick to topping. Now THAT’S what I call a strike.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

As I watch Denmark scribble stuff in that diary of his...I can only wonder how he writes so much.

Well we went bowling today...WIthout Sealand, thank goodness. We were _supposed_ to wait for our lane, because there were leagues playing in all the lanes except one and two, but then Denmark showed them his ID and they kicked some people out of lane one. Aren’t we just royal. Those stupid shoes we had to wear hurt my feet, and they were stiff, but whatever. I still don’t get why we have to wear them...at all.

And okay...I admit, but I didn’t know how to bowl. And Dane came up behind me and guided my arm. We were in _public._ And we’re practically famous, so do you know how many people were probably watching? And that’s especially embarrassing, because I can’t bowl, so the second time he let me bowl by myself and I got what they call a “gutter ball”. I think. He also kept cracking jokes (inappropriate ones, at that) about the bowling balls, but I smacked him. Because there were children in the next lane over. Real mature, Mathias.

I felt a little sorry for Icey, only because he was pretty much in fourth the whole time and even ended there. I would’ve traded my third for his fourth if I could, to make him happy. But I don’t really think he cared. The whole time, when he wasn’t going, he was texting away on his phone. Oh, teenagers.

Anyway, Finland was way too happy. Someone should not be so enthusiastic that they cheer when they get a gutter ball. Just...no. Sweden was a little creepy while bowling, because he put no emotion into it, yet he managed to get second. Naturally, Denmark got first. Damn showoff.

Afterwards we just sat around in the diner area. Denmark ordered a Ringnes beer (which, okay, made me a little happy). I just got a root beer, close enough. I didn’t want to go home drunk or something...And then he put a french fry in his mouth and asked me to play the “French Fry Game”. Which isn’t even a real game, he told me America made it up. Again, I smacked him and instead sat with Iceland and attempted to make him say “Big Brother”. Which he _never_ does. One day I’ll get him to. He just ignored me by texting that boyfriend of his. Wonderful...

Somehow, in the end, Denmark made me apologize for hitting him so many times by letting me...top. But I really didn’t want to, so I made it fairly obvious that I didn’t know _how_ , and just told him that he should stick to topping.


	44. Chapter 44

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So today I was watching Spongebob, because that shit it LEGIT. Good ol’ Spongey was wearing a viking hat and beard, and was all like “Happy Lief Ericson Day!” Of course, I got all pumped, because my favorite cartoon character was bein’ a viking, just like my people! And that’s when I remembered that Lief Ericson Day was an actual holiday. So I turned off the TV and went to the computer, then Googled that holiday. Turns out, it was today! And Wikipedia said that he was a Norse explorer, so Norway totally had to be celebrating it!

Since I’m the best boyfriend ever, I decided to contribute to the holiday spirit by making cookies for him. Remember when Norge made me that butter cake? Well, being such a fricking sentimentalist, I thought it would be awesome to make _butter_ cookies. So I got out butter, eggs, sugar, vanilla, flour, and all that good stuff, then went to work while Norway was working at the convenience store (he told me he was gonna quit today, though...)

Ringnes thinks he was helping me, but the silly guy was pretty much just getting in my way. It’s not like I could yell at him, though... Have you SEEN what baby Great Danes look like? Too fucking cute. So yeah, it took me longer to bake my cookies with a dog practically glued to me, but they still came out pretty damn good.

When Norway got home, I greeted him just like a husband treats his wife when she comes home. He just looked at me and walked away. Cold, right?! i stalked him into the kitchen, and he’s all like “What smells like utter happiness and sexuality?” ...Well, maybe that isn’t EXACTLY what he said..... But I told him that I made butter cookies, just for him, for Lief Ericson! He gives me this look like, “WTF, why.” So I reminded him that Lief Ericson was Norwegian!

...maybe I should’ve looked at a website besides Wikipedia. Cuz apparently Ericson was born in Iceland..... Oh well. I still caught Norway om-nom-nomming away on one of my cookies multiple times. Yeah, he did give a couple to Ringnes, but I _assume_ he ate some... Especially since that night, he let me cuddle with him. So he must’ve been damn grateful.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

That idiot does realize that Lief Ericson was born in Iceland, right? Whatever...When I came home, the house pretty much smelled like heaven. I walked into the kitchen to find Denmark with a pan of cookies, a cocky grin on his face. He told me that today was apparently Lief Ericson day, then told me he was Norwegian. Correction, Ericson was born in Iceland but he was still Norwegian. I knew him personally, thank you.

The cookies were amazing, I admit. They were like butter cake, in _cookie_ form. I didn’t think he could bake, but they melted in my mouth...and Ringnes liked them, too. Then again, he’s a dog. They like everything. And because I’m the grateful boyfriend, I let Denmark cuddle me that night.


	45. Chapter 45

**Denmark**

_Dear Diary,_

It’s the end of the fricking WORLD. There’s just no hope left. My very purpose has been taken from me. Life is fading.

Norway... has a COLD.

What if it’s more than a cold? Like, the flu? Or cancer? Or the plague? He could DIE! Or, more importantly, _I_ could catch it and die! So since I’m a fucking GOOD boyfriend, I’m taking care of him.

I’ve been doing all the stuff I should. Taking his temperature, giving him medicine, waiting on him.... Well, correction. I’m TRYING to do that stuff. Norge is such a stubborn little prick! He keeps insisting he can do everything himself and shooing me away. But he’s naive enough to figure I’m not watching him 24-7, so he doesn’t know that I see him try to get up to get more blankets and end up tripping over his own feet. And whenever he tries to cook for himself, he just sneezes or coughs and messes himself all up. I eventually inserted myself like a total man and MADE him lay down in bed while I brought him a ton of blankets and all the food ‘n liquids he needed.

Get this: after a few hours, he gave in completely and actually let me take his temperature! Poor guy had a fever... I put a wet cloth on his forehead and, since I’m just that deep, I kissed the cloth after I put it on him. How great am I? Then I gave him some meds and sat outside the door until he called me again.

I think he’s getting better now... Ringnes thinks he’s helping by chilling on the bed with him. It’s just pissing Norge off, though. Still, I can tell he’s pretty happy overall (only his most awesome boyfriend can read him like that). Me, on the other hand.... I’ve got a fever too now. Time for Norge to play doctor with _me_!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

This entry is going to be quick. I have a throbbing headache that won’t go away...

All day Denmark has been trying to help me with everything, just because I have a small cold. So at the moment I am sitting in bed (with Ringnes laying across my lap, mind you), miserable and ill. Turns out I have a high fever, which I probably gave to Denmark. Oh well. That’s what he gets for trying to take care of me.


	46. Chapter 46

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I am VERY proud of myself. I’ve been trying since forever to get Norge to go drinking with me, and I FINALLY got it to work. How, you ask? Well I will tell you, Diary Dearest. I told him we were going to do karaoke, which wasn’t a total lie since it was a karaoke bar. Norway has the singing voice of a fucking GOD, so he just couldn’t turn that offer down.

He was VERY pissed when I dragged him over to the counter. And for some reason it bothered him that the bartender knew me by my first name. He tried to walk out once, but I threw him back on the stool and he stayed, just scowling. Kinda like when I give Ringnes a bath. I, of course, got a bigass mug of beer, and that priss got some sort of wine. Whatever, as long as he got drunk I truly did not care what he was drinking. I chugged mine right down, and he took girly little sips that made me wanna pour the whole glass down his throat.

But because of what happened afterwards, I can’t complain.

Turns out, Norway can NOT hold his liquor very well. I was on my third mug, completely unaffected; halfway through his second glass, he was shoving it away nagging me to leave. His voice kept getting whinier and whinier until his words were slurred and he was obviously drunk. Perfect.

Let me tell you, a drunk Norway is a wonderful Norway. He had this big smile on his face that looked an awful lot like the one Finland’s always got. He kept poking me in the ribs then giggling about it, and whispering in my ear: “Mathias. Guess what. I love you.” and other stuff like that until he basically busted his gut from cracking up. Absolutely loving the whole thing, I kissed him when he was ranting about what he would name our babies (the names were all characters from Strawberry Shortcake), and when I pulled away he stared up at me with this ADORABLE expression. He looked so caught off guard, his eyes all wide and his cheeks all red... When I finished up my fourth glass, I knew it was karaoke time.

Drunk Norway does not sing ANYTHING like Sober Norway does. He wasn’t really singing the female parts of _Don’t Stop Believing..._ More like shouting them with a lot of emotion. I was pretty fricking proud of my own voice when I sang the male parts... I mean, have you HEARD me in _Always With You?_ I have no idea why I haven’t been signed yet. Anyway, during one of those really long instrumentals, Norway would make little sound effects and play invisible instruments, and sometimes he started to sing my parts then giggle when he realized he wasn’t supposed to start yet.

I was really disappointed to see him be all pissy and hungover the next morning, even though I expected it. But it was totally worth it for three reasons: He was so fricking CUTE as a drunk; the video of our karaoke antics already has over 100 views on YouTube; and when we got home....... Well, I’ll just say that my new favorite number is 69. ;)

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

...I remember none of it. I remember we had gone out for karaoke, Denmark dragged me to the bar, and then my memories are all blurred.

I did, however, see the video. Apparently it has over 100 views, with just as many likes on YouTube. And I can’t delete it, because Denmark changed his password again and I can’t figure it out. So I just disliked it and deleted it all from my memory.

Although...I do remember a certain number. It’s kind of stamped into my brain forever....69.

****


	47. Chapter 47

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always thought Finny wasn’t right in the head. But now I know for sure.

Obviously, although us Nordics are close as close can be, we don’t get along all the time. Me ‘n Norway fight like an old married couple, Sealand is just a little bitch to everyone, Iceland hates everything with a pulse that isn’t Hong Kong, and Sweden is just terrifying. So Finland decided we all needed to relax somewhere, together. Since he’s Finland, he figured the natural place to gather was a sauna.

I was totally digging it at first. Norway in a steamy room, wearing just a towel? Sure, we fuck weekly now, but I’ll take every chance I get to see him sweating and shirtless. Apparently that makes me a pervert. Woops.

So yeah, it was great at first. Nice and cozy, and actually really relaxing. Finland was kind of a genius, cuz we weren’t fighting at all. And then it all got shitty.

The steam kept increasing and increasing, which meant it kept getting hotter and hotter. I swear, it was a billion fricking degrees in there! We were all pretty much panting, and we barely had enough energy to fan ourselves... but Finland was totally unaffected. He just sat there, smiling, kicking his feet and humming.

See why it’s hard for all of us to get along?

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I’ve always thought Finland was crazy. He’s always smiling and laughing; what’s there to smile about?

But today finally confirmed my suspicions. He had this idea to go to the sauna. Denmark agreed immediately, Iceland hesitated, and I simply nodded. Eventually, I had managed to drag my brother to the sauna with us.

It was fun, of course, but it kept getting hotter in the room. The steam kept filling up the room. Iceland had crawled to the door, attempting to open it, but it didn’t. Turns out those doors lock and stay locked until your time’s up. So he gave up and sprawled himself on the floor. We were all sweltering, and fanning ourselves wasn’t helping. But Finland?

He was sitting on the bench, happily kicking his legs and humming some Finnish song.

I told you he was insane.


	48. Chapter 48

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I hate chores. Nuff said.

I am the King of Scandinavia. I should NOT have to do chores. But does anyone care about that? Noooo. When the leaves started falling off the trees and making our yard a crunchy mess, I had to help rake. Sealand didn’t because he ran away again (he’ll be back in like an hour) and neither did Finland because he was “busy” cooking. Lucky bastard.

I decided to make it a point that I _did not_ want to do this. I complained about it every three seconds. ...But then Norge gave me a good whack with his rake, left a huge bruise and made me bleed, so I shut up for a while. Well, that’s a lie: I just muttered about it under my breath.

I was trying to actually put effort at first, but the third time that Ringnes ran through the pile, I decided to half-ass it. I can’t be mad at the dog, though... It was pretty fricking adorable, with his ears and tongue floppin’ around. I imagine he was shouting “RED ROVER!” in his language.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

It’s times like these that I wish I was a housewife or something. Since it’s fall, all the leaves on the trees you know, fall. They were all over our yard, so all of us got together and raked up the yard.

Well, sort of.

The whole time Denmark was complaining loudly about how he really _did not_ want to do this. Sealand had run away again, but we all know he’ll be back in an hour or so. Finland was too busy cooking, and Iceland just sat there leaning against his rake and texting Hong Kong. The only one actually raking was Sweden, but he would always go inside every five minutes to check up on Finland. Denmark _tried_ to rake, but Ringnes kept running through the pile of leaves.

I did smile once, though. The pixies were so happy that the leaves were falling, and they rode the leaves as they fell to the ground. Then they would zoom back up to the trees and sit on another leaf while they waited for it to fall. Aren’t they fun little creatures?


	49. Chapter 49

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Iceland and I do not get along very well. You know that pretty well by now. But that doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit about him. I mean, he’s my future in-law! I can’t have him HATING me.

Ever since HK gave ‘im his first kiss, he’s been different. I dunno how, just... different. And I can tell something’s bothering him. Well, okay, something’s ALWAYS bothering him, but I can tell that he’s currently got boy troubles. So I sat him down (it took him a while to stop ignoring me asking him to sit) and started to give him some advice.

He wanted to take their relationship to the next level. I could just tell. I gave him permission to drop everything he’s doing just to text Hong Kong, which he does already but I could at least tell him it’s okay. I also said he doesn’t have to stick around here: he can go bond with Hong Kong and his crazy Asian family whenever the hell he wants to. Which he also apparently does already. I can’t figure out when he sneaks off, though. I told him that he can never let Hong Kong forget how much he loves him. He has to constantly smile at least a little bit in his presence, laugh at every joke he makes even if it isn’t actually funny, and NEVER leave without a kiss and a “I love you.”

I had much more to say. I was determined to get to my favorite part of this talk- it overlapped with _The_ Talk if you know what I mean- but then Norway walked in the room. He slammed my face against the table and dragged me off by the tie. Jesus, couldn’t he see that I was trying to help?! It’s like he thinks that whenever I’m with Iceland, it’s a bad thing...

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

As you know, Iceland is loopy with love for Hong Kong. No matter how hard you try, you can’t pull those two away. Yes, it annoys me that he’s so clingy to him and constantly sneaks out his window at night to be with him, but I admit. They’re cute together.

However, the last straw was when I saw Denmark with him, giving him _advice_ about Hong _Kong._ Who does he think he is?! It’s like he thinks he’s doing good to the world by giving my little brother boy advice. 

I don’t think so.

So with every ounce of strength I had, I slammed his head into the table and dragged him away by his tie, telling him off when we got into the kitchen.


	50. Chapter 50

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! So to celebrate this fantastic holiday, all of the Nordics (plus Sealand) went to Fright Fest at some American amusement park called Six Flags. I personally wanted to go trick-or-treating this year, but Norge said I’m too old. What a killjoy.

Fright Fest was awesome though. The lines for EVERYTHING were too fucking long, so we just derped around the park. Well, that’s a lie: me, Sealand, and Finny went on the carousel. Norway pretended he didn’t know me for a while afterwards... He really needs to loosen up!

So if you don’t know how Fright Fest works, I’ll tell ya. Employees dressed as zombies wander around the park, trying to scare people shitless. I, of course, wasn’t scared at all: I’m the king of Scandinavia, and my ax makes their chainsaws and shovels look like kiddie toys (although the more chainsaw guys we saw, the more convinced I became that they weren’t just props...) There were a lot of kids running out of the park crying, and I felt bad for them, but I was trying really hard not to laugh at them like Sealand was doing. This one zombie chick shaking a tin can with stuff inside of it shook her can in Sealand’s face; he blinked, lunged at HER, then walked away. I find that kinda hilarious, since a group of human teens had ran away from the lady crying just a few minutes earlier. Sometimes, I wanna be Sealand’s BFF.

Norge had his usual poker face on, but I knew he was terrified inside. So I walked around with my arm around him, and when he smacked me away I just stood really close in front of him so nothing could touch him. I mean, technically it was against park policy for the zombies to make physical contact with people, but those zombies could be criminals!

And I was right about Norge. He was super chill, until we got close to a guy with a chainsaw. Finland had gone running the second he heard a zombie lunge at someone’s feet with a shovel, and Sweden had gone to find him, plus Sealand was dragging Iceland onto the Tea Cups, so it was just me, Norge, and Mr. Chainsaw Guy. He had looked about half the zombies in the eye all day, but when this guy revved up his chainsaw, Norge grabbed my hand and took off running. He didn’t scream like pretty much everyone else would’ve, but I could see in his eyes that he almost shit himself.

In the end, it was a pretty good night: I’d bought cheese fries and a super hero cape, had a conversation with a pirate zombie, beat the all time Dance Dance Revolution high score in the arcade (only to have Norway beat THAT score), and kissed Norge under the entrance to Bizarro.

 

P.S. I don’t care that Norge said I’m too old for trick-or-treating. Tomorrow is Halloween, and I _am_ going with Sealand. My pirate costume is 10 times better than his, anyway.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Waking up to find a certain Dane dressed up in a Halloween costume while holding a bag for candy pounding at your door is not fun. He claimed he was going trick-or-treating, but I stopped him and said that we were going to Six Flags. He just stared at me. “The American place?” He had said. No. The Russian place down the street.

And that night, we did go. To celebrate Halloween, Six Flags holds this event called Fright Fest, where a bunch of the employees run around dressed as zombies, trying to scare everyone. A ton of kids ran past us crying, and even the silly teenage girls would run away screaming like hell. Sealand would laugh at them, and I could tell that Denmark was trying not to laugh as well. A zombie woman lunged at Sealand, shrieking, but he just lunged back at her. Okay, yes. that was pretty funny.

And I wasn’t scared, most of the time. It wasn’t all that scary. Just a bit of fog, people screaming, and insane clowns laughing and chasing you down. No big deal. But I had no freaking idea that there would be men with _chainsaws_. And those things looked real. And sounded real. But that’s what shocked me: The fact that I had been looking at these people all day, and the one that made my heart skip a beat, grab Denmark’s hand, and rush away were the ones with the chainsaws. They were terrifying! Don’t judge me!

When the rest of us had gotten back together, Denmark got a ton of cheese fries, Sealand got a small cup of hot tea (He’s still British, you know), Iceland got a small Sprite, and the rest of us got coffee. Really, my jacket wasn’t enough to keep me warm. Denmark simply grinned when I muttered it was cold, then wrapped his arm around me and kissed me full on the mouth. His excuse was that “He would keep me warm with his lips”. Okay, Sure.

We stayed there until the park closed, pretty much just hanging out in the stores. Sealand wanted to go into the arcade, and Denmark and I played Dance Dance Revolution against each other (I won, by the way.).

All I know is that I was crazy happy to just jump back into the back seat of the car and relax.

And I _didn’t_ fall asleep on Denmark’s shoulder, mind you.


	51. Chapter 51

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Have you ever woken up one day and immediately think: “Today, I need to _____”? Well, that happened to me. And I filled in the blank with “have company over.”

I’m still working on building my relationship with my future brother-in-law, so I figured I’d earn some points if I invited Hong Kong to dinner. But if I invited JUST him, that’d be awkward as hell, so I thought I’d make it a little dinner party and have a few of my buds over too. England and Prussia were my drinking buddies, but maybe it was about time we became legit _friends_. God, being in a relationship sure has made me soft.

So I called up England, Prussia, and Hong Kong and invited them over. Hong Kong didn’t seem all that happy to see England; the second he said hi to all the Nordics, he disappeared up to Icey’s room with him. _That_ brought Norge’s happiness meter down into the negatives. I was kinda afraid that if I touched him, my skin would melt off or something. Norway’s damn TERRIFYING when he’s pissed.

Sealand was even more unhappy about England being there than HK. Hong Kong just kinda looked at him like “Damn, it’s that guy.” Sealand? He was pretty much glued to Sweden the whole time, glaring at England every chance he got and shouting “GET LOST, JERKLAND!” whenever he got close to him. Guess those two don’t have the best history.

Finland, being the housewife he is, whipped up this yummylicious dinner for everyone (Norway’s pissiness practically doubled when Iceland responded with “One minute” when Finny called him down for dinner). I kinda expected Prussia to dig in like an animal, but his manners were pretty good all things considered. I mean, all he did was murder his potatoes with his fork and start/jump into conversations with a full mouth. You can’t even be mad that he was talking with his mouth full when he said stuff like “This is even awesomer than what Hungary cooks me!” You could _probably_ be offended with the other stuff, though. I mean, I wasn’t- Prussia’s a real cool dude- but Finland had to cover Sealand’s ears a few times.

Prussia was pretty much exactly the same as when he’s drunk. England, on the other hand... He’s a totally different person when he’s sober. He’s actually kind of... _boring._ He’s all mannery and proper and polite, and it really got under my skin. How can a guy that can get on a bar counter and sing show tunes while half naked be such a gentleman?

Get this, though: he really hit it off with Norway. They both kinda motioned under the table at the same time, and looked up at each other like “Da fuq?” Norge said something like “You see them too?” and England put on this little smile and they started talking about fairies. _Fairies!_

This just wasn’t allowed. England was my drinking bro. Norway was my BF. My boo. My lover. My honeybunches. My sex toy. They could NOT. BOND. His mood went from -100 to like, 60, just from talking to England! I’ll tell you, _that_ put my boxers in a twist.

You can imagine I didn’t invite everyone to hang around afterwards. Me and Prussia chatted for a little bit after dinner, but I could barely concentrate cuz _Norway was talking with England._ I admit though, I find it kind of hilarious that he can be involved in a happy little conversation and also throw Iceland looks that clearly said “Take him back upstairs and you’ll wake up with a knife in your backs.” So Hong Kong and Icey chilled in the living room until everyone left.

I think I’m gonna be okay with England’s friendship with Norge. Cuz next time we go drinking, I’m going to take some videos.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I don’t know what he was thinking when he invited _Hong Kong_ over for our little dinner party. Does Denmark not know what teenagers who are dating _do_ in their free time? For all I know, my little brother could’ve possibly lost his virginity already. And he never. Told. Me. Anything.

The whole time he was over here, I kept a close watch on those two. If he so much as touched Iceland, he was going to end up with a few missing limbs. And he kept throwing his gaze at England, whom of which I was having a happy conversation with, and then he would turn away and continue talking to Iceland. What did he have against England? Or maybe it was me he was looking at. Either way, that boy can seriously look horrifying without even changing expression.

How does Brother Dearest even put up with him.

Also, the whole time I was chatting with England about our fairy friends (who were _nagging_ us about how they wanted some of the food, too), Denmark was unnaturally worried about something. You would think that he and Prussia would be talking the whole time, but no. Denmark kept looking over at me, then frowning. What’d I do to him?

And Sealand. Don’t get me started on that little brat. If England even walked past him, he would cling to Sweden and yell, “GO AWAY, JERKLAND!” and as many other profanities a twelve year old child could come up with.

The thing that really got under my skin though was when Finland called everyone to dinner, and Iceland responded with....”One minute.” _What was he doing up there?!_ He NEVER responded with “One minute”. He was always quick to rush down the stairs, eat his dinner, then go right back up to his room. But no. They were doing something. My little brother and his boyfriend were doing something together, something that would cause my dear brother to respond with “one minute”!

 

I refused to let them go back upstairs.


	52. Chapter 52

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

I love Norway. You obviously know that by now. But that doesn’t mean I’m positive I won’t need some blackmail against him. In fact, I’m sure I _will._ So I got some footage that, if Norge knew I had available for posting on the internet, he’d probably treat me like a king (which he should anyway, but whatever).

So he was chilling outside, lookin’ all peaceful on the porch except for when Ringnes would bound over like “OMGIHAVEN’TSEENYOUFOR5WHOLEMINUTESIMUSTLOVEYOU!” Cuz then he’d shove him away. It got to the point that the poor guy gave up and came back inside, curling up and licking my foot. I wonder if for dogs, licking stuff is like eating junk food for people. Like, how when you’re upset you just curl up with a tub of ice cream and go crazy?

Well that was off topic, wasn’t it. Anyway, Norge didn’t know I was watching him, my heart fluttering every time he moved. But then his demeanor changed. A little tiny smile appeared on his face; hoping that expression wouldn’t go away, I whipped out my phone so I could snap a new wallpaper. Sadly for me, when I opened up my camera app, he was frowning. He started muttering stuff in Norwegian; I was curious, so I hit Record so I could go back and translate it later. What if my honeybunches was stressed about something? I had to know what he was freaking about so I could comfort him later! But then he started getting more animated. Still speaking in Norwegian, he raised his voice with every sentence and started using hand motions, like he was arguing with someone....

I knew that he was talking to fairies, not imaginary friends or himself. But members of YouTube don’t.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

My fairies were just getting on my last nerves today. Apparently they support Hong Kong and Iceland being together! And so no one could understand, I told them off in Norwegian. Good. Hopefully Iceland can’t tell. So as I sat there on the porch, quietly arguing with them. more and more came. One was saying how she wished she had a boyfriend as sweet as Hong Kong, and another was saying how she saw them together in the park the other day. _Holding hands._

That’s it. I need to give Iceland The Talk.


	53. Chapter 53

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

The hell is up with Icey? He’s been even more out of it than usual. I don’t know the word for it... He’s just walking around, looking a little more pale than usual, and even though he never looks HAPPY now he just kinda looks twitchy. I keep expecting him to hug himself; it’s like in his head he’s going “Don’t touch me” over and over. It’s almost like he’s been RAPED.

Now I really wanna know what Norge did to him. …...I knew he loved his little bro, but hot damn, it better not be what I think it is. O_o

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Hm. So maybe giving him The Talk wasn’t such a good idea. Ever since I went into detail about having sex with your boyfriend, Iceland hasn’t been the same. Usually he’s just loopy and walking around in a daze, but now he’s paler than usual and just ignoring everyone. More than usual, that is. At one point I even saw him sit down on the floor, hug his knees, then rock back and forth. Poor child. He must be horror-struck at the thought of stripping in front of someone.


	54. Chapter 54

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

 So remember that video I took of Norge yelling at his imaginary friends? Of course you do, it was only like, two entries ago. Well, it’s officially come in handy. Because I got a tiny bit drunk, and apparently thought that Red Bull isn’t the only drink that gives you wings, because I was climbing to the top of the house in order to jump off. I shouted out “I BELIEVE I CAN FLY” before jumping right off into a pile of leaves that Sweden had spent hours raking up. Woops.

Now, I don’t remember this happening. All I know is that I woke up in the hospital, but fortunately being a nation made it so I wasn’t that badly affected by the fall. But instead of coming to my aid like a good boyfriend, Norway was filming the whole thing. And plans on using it for blackmail.

I decided the best thing to do in this situation was blackmail him out of using blackmail. ...It only took a few minutes for me to realize that I’m too nice of a person to do such a thing, so I instead waited for Norway to fall asleep and deleted the video from his phone (and gave him a few kisses, cuz he’s just so vulnerable in his sleep). Still, that didn’t get me out of my blackmaily-mood. So I came up with a plan.

First, of course, I showed him the video I had. Then I changed my password to something he’d never guess (it’s “iheartSve,” if you were wondering) and kept my phone locked. I couldn’t let such beautiful blackmail footage go to waste... so I told him I’d delete it, only if he announced to his citizens that he was in love with me.

Then he strangled me. So I convinced him to just announce it at the next world meeting.

And he did. It was almost done, I’d been through my second bottle of beer and eavesdropped on the seventh pointless argument (courtesy of America), and was pretty sure Norge was gonna chicken out and I’d have to post the video online. But when everyone shut up as we got ready to leave, he was all like “I have something important to say.” You know it was quiet in the room, cuz Norge isn’t exactly a loud dude. Blushing like a little high school girl, he glared at the table and went “I’m in love with Denmark.” Then he kissed my cheek and stormed the hell out of there.

I deleted the video from my phone; it’s not like I could forget him arguing with thin air. Plus we barely got any sleep that night, if you know what I mean. ;)

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Yes. Denmark is an idiot. He jumped from the roof, thinking he could fly. Yes. Denmark is annoying. He made a video of me talking to my pixies, which the camera could not see for some reason. And _yes._ I am in love with him. As the whole world found out.

He told me that the only way he was going to delete the video was if I announced at the next world meeting that I was in love with him. So I did. When everyone was getting ready to leave, I stood up, told everyone that I had something to say, muttered that I loved him, then got the hell out of there. I mean, I was already getting looks from people! Not cool.

So yeah. Now I’m pretty miserable. And it doesn’t help that Iceland is ignoring me again.


	55. Chapter 55

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So you know how Finny’s always making cakes like a total housewife? Well I decided to be a little sentimental and try my hand at making some. I mean, it can’t be THAT hard, right? And I feel like it might be pretty satisfying to do something so feminine. Maybe it’s stuff like that that makes FInland so happy all the time!

Sadly, I didn’t exactly know my way around the kitchen- that’s women’s territory unless I’m looking through the pantry. So I asked the only other “woman” in the house, my Norge, where the flour was. He asked why I needed it, and when I told ‘im, he said that he didn’t trust me to bake! He must think I’m too manly for it. But hey, I can be soft too when I want! So in the end, we made the cake _together._ Is that not super romantic coupley stuff?!

Guess what, it gets better.

Fricking Norway thought he was smart stuff and basically took over the whole project- it seems Finny isn’t the only housewife in the Nordics household. Norge was being as lame as his little bro and actually following a recipe, step-by-step. He wouldn’t let me add any pizazz! Naturally, though, I managed. When my little love dove was occupied heating the oven, I decided the cake wasn’t nearly sugary enough. So I dumped about half a bag’s worth of sugar into the mix, but then realized it looked disproportional. So I added some more butter.

I was so caught up in my awesome special touches that I didn’t notice Norway walking up behind me, giving off this creepy-ass aura. Don’t get me wrong, he looks dead sexy when he glares, but it still caught me off guard enough for me to drop the stick of butter I had in my hand when I turned around. That just made him even more pissed, so he banished me to the kitchen table.

It’s as if Norge doesn’t even know me. Did he seriously expect me to sit still while he was slaving away at this cake that _I_ was supposed to be making? After about a minute, I stood up to help... but was so distracted by the sexy back of his head that I didn’t pay attention to the stick of butter on the floor, and slipped right on it. I ended up crashing his into Norway so hard that he made a face-plant into his bowl of cake batter.

That got him _mad._

He spun around, pretty much fumer (just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter, haha), but didn’t exactly realize that he still had the mixing bowl in his hands. So he splattered cake stuff all over the place. He held onto the bowl with one hand and used the other to lunge for my throat, as if it was MY fault he’d made a mess. He should’ve been more careful! Anyway, even with one hand he’s a force to be reckoned with, so I ended up knocked on my ass.

Naturally I dragged Norge down with me.

I’m kind of impressed that the mixing bowl didn’t break when Norway dropped it. I mean, it still spilled, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in the end. Norway had me pinned to the ground (I was barely even fighting him- I gotta let him top _sometimes_ ). I managed to pull one hand away, dipped my fingers into a top layer of the batter, and flicked flour right in Norway’s face. He practically growled at me as he grabbed a handful of batter and smashed it all over _my_ face. He’d added vanilla, so when I licked it off my lips it actually wasn’t so horrible. I rolled over so Norway and I were both on our sides, laying in the cake batter. He muttered something about being messy and wasteful, but before he could start yelling at me I smeared another ball of batter onto his shirt.

As you could imagine, we spent the next few minutes having a cake batter war as if we were having a snowball fight. We were both a MESS, and it took forever to clean the shit off the floor and out of our hair & clothes, but here’s a fun little fact: making out on the floor with a good coating of uncooked cake stuff all over both of your faces is AMAZING.

Until your dog bounds in and licks the rest off your face.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I knew something was up when Denmark asked where the flour was.

He said he needed it to make a cake. Hah! As if. I told him I didn’t trust him to bake, as he’d probably burn the whole house down. However, we ended up making the cake together. As I was following the recipe, Denmark kept trying to throw things like chocolate chips or extra sugar to the batter. He must’ve thought it needed “pizazz” or something. So when I turned around to preheat the oven, the idiot pretty much dumped the whole thing of sugar into the bowl. Then added more butter. You can only imagine how angry that had made me.

He was grinning ear to ear in a cutesy little way as I stepped closer to him. He dropped the butter that was in his hand when he saw me, then just smiled wider. Of course, that was a huge waste of butter (if I remember correctly, I recently suffered a Butter Crisis), so I sent him away to the kitchen table. However, after about a minute, I could tell he got up and was slowly making his way towards me. But then he slipped on the butter or something and slammed into me, causing me to face-plant into the bowl of batter that I was fixing up. Wonderful.

When I spun around, about half of the batter spilled out of the bowl and onto the counters, cabinets, and floor. That seriously angered me. So I lunged for him (only spilling more batter) and pushed him on the ground. And he dragged me down with him.

So, surprise, we were on the floor, covered in cake batter. I dropped the bowl, pinning him to the ground. I knew he was letting me, since he _is_ stronger than me. I was so busy staring into his eyes (ignore I EVER said that) that I didn’t notice he moved his hand over to the batter and coated his hand with flour, flicking it into my face. I had just about had it. I took a handful of batter and smashed it all over his face, but he didn’t seem to get the message. He rolled us both over so we were on our sides and we got into a little batter fight. This was so wasteful, but worth it. The kitchen was a disaster after our little war, but right as I was about to rub the smeared batter off my face, he rolled on top of me and smashed his lips against mine. Idiot.

I still kissed him back, because I still love him. As inappropriate as it sounds, Denmark had fun licking at my lips, attempting to get the batter off. And I did the same.

Because like I said, I’m still in love with that idiot.


	56. Chapter 56

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Nobody’s as tight as us Nordics, I swear. We do so much shit together, like a good ol’ family! This time, the 5 of us (and Sealand) went roller skating. It was Finland’s idea, as usual. I was real excited; I’d never gone roller skating before.

We got lockers to throw our crap in and tied on some roller skates. I jumped right to my feet, ready to go.... and forgot that there were wheels on my feet and ended up falling into Norway. Thank God he caught me, or my face would’ve had a nice meeting with the floor.

Fricking Sealand is such a damn showoff, I swear. He zipped right across the carpet into the ring like he’d had wheels on his shoes every day of his life. Finland couldn’t even stand without Sweden helping him up- funny, since this was his idea. Sweden led him around on the carpet for a while before pretty much pulling him into the ring, where it was dark except for all these rainbow disco lights. There was also some really badass American music playing. Sounds like a party, right? So naturally I was real eager to get my ass over there. But Norway cares about me so much that he made us take a few practice laps around the carpet before entering the ring. I, personally, don’t think he lacked faith in me; I think he was questioning his _own_ abilities.

Norge eventually trusted me enough to go into the ring, but made me stay a few feet away from Icey. The kid looked like a total weirdo- he moved his feet as little as possible, literally just drifting around the ring. I, on the other hand, was eager to _go_ places!

...Kay, I’ll admit: that didn’t work very well.

Apparently, they don’t recommend that you make speed a priority when you’ve never roller skated before. I did go fast for at least half the length of the wall, but when it was time to turn...... Let’s just say I wouldn’t have regretted wearing elbow and knee pads. I slowed down to just the occasional push-off, not because I didn’t think I could handle going fast, but because I wanted to stick with Norway, who insisted upon going so damn slow. It was adorable, how awkward and penguin-like he looked when he skated.... Then again, I probably looked the same.

It took about an hour and 26 falls, but I eventually managed to get a hang of this skating thing. Norway never fell; then again, he was barely trying more than Iceland was. I’m so damn awesome that I figured out how to drift backwards for about a minute, so I turned around to face Norway and took his hands. I nodded at the teenage chicks racing around with their boyfriends, and told Norge we should do what they were doing. Even though it was dark, I swear he turned a little pale as he declined.

Like hell was I gonna take “no” for an answer. I skated up behind him, and gave him a nice little shove, forcing him to gain speed. I declared a race, and Norway didn’t deny _that._ Surprisingly, he was actually totally owning me, with at least a foot between us. ...But then he tried to turn. And my precious Norway rammed right into the wall.

He was so embarrassed, it was awful. But it uh, it gets worse. I was so determined to help my little pixie puff that i kinda forgot how to operate my breaks, rolled right passed him, and went flying a good foot or two onto my stomach. But my love and badassness motivated me to ignore the pain and crawl over to Norway, who was poker-faced but I could see tears welling up in my eyes. He smacked me when I offered my hand, but when I clawed my way up the wall onto my feet and tried to help him stand again, he _did_ take my hand. I offered to go sit with him, but he’s got so much pride that he insisted we keep on skating.

So we went as slow as Iceland, holding hands tightly the whole time.

After we’d been in the ring for about 2 hours and I’d serenaded Norway with every One Direction and Bruno Mars song they played, Finland called us over to the exit and we chilled at the food court. I forced Norway to sit while I got us some drinks, but kinda killed my cool by rolling into the counter before I could order our drinks. Sweden wouldn’t let me carry my own pizza slice after that.

The Nordic 5 sat around nomming on our pizza, Finland and Sweden watching Sealand boss around little kids in the play area, me holding Norway’s hand under the table, and Iceland texting Hong Kong with every three sips of water he took. That weird Korean song _Gangnam Style_ came on, and I got up to do the dance with a bunch of human teenage guys doing it a table across from us, but Norge pulled me back down, forcing me to do the arm motions in my seat.

We all decided (well, except for Iceland, who isn’t very opinionated anyway) that we’d totally come back again; maybe make it a monthly thing. The whole holding-hands-while-skating thing got me so lovey-dovey that all I wanted to do was cuddle Norway till we fell asleep. If you wanna know the truth, what I _really_ wanted to do was sex him up until he saw stars.... but I think both of us were WAY too sore.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Quite honestly, last night was really fun. The Nordic Five (and Sealand) all went roller skating, which I haven’t done in forever. It was Finland’s idea, because he’s just like that. We managed to fit all of our things in just three lockers (it would’ve been two, but Denmark’s jacket took up so much space), and laced up our rented skates. Denmark stood up immediately, but then fell right over onto me. Lucky for him that I caught him, otherwise he would’ve had a broken nose. I swear, Sealand is so insane that he skated right out to the rink to gather up a crowd of kids and claim himself as their leader. He insisted that they called him “King Peter”.

Finland and Sweden were being all lovey-dovey, and while they skated, Sweden had his arm around Finland’s waist to help him stand. It’s a good thing Finland was so feminine, otherwise all the homophobic people would’ve yelled at them.

The ring was dark, almost pitch black, and the place had American music blasting so loud you had to yell to talk to someone right next to you. Denmark was practically bouncing up and down, willing to get out there and roll around, but I forced him to take a few practice laps around the carpeted area so he could get the hang of pushing off and such.

I did eventually, after about ten minutes of skating on carpet, allow him to skate in the rink. But I told him that if he got anywhere near Iceland, he would wake up one morning on the roof. In the snow. With no clothes.

Anyways, as soon as we got into the rink, he zipped off. Well, attempted to. He did fine when he rolled along the length of the wall, but then he got to the turn. And collapsed. I mean, seriously, it was hilarious. He got up and grinned back at me, then skated over to me. He then stayed by my side the entire time. He claimed that no, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to fall, it was because he wanted to stay next to me. Yeah right.

Denmark probably fell about thirty times in one hour; I hadn’t fallen once. Then he figured out how to skate backwards. So he turned around, grabbed my hands, and kinda pulled me along. He motioned at a few couples skating around us, then suggested we did the same. I quickly denied his offer; I was _not_ willing to be the couple that they looked at in disgust because we were both male. Not that I cared, but I have a reputation to keep up. So then he skated up behind me and shoved me so I would go faster. Then he suggested we race.

Now he was talking. I zoomed in front of him, and I heard him laughing as he attempted to go faster. Then I frowned. Oh yeah, there were turns. I attempted to push off on my right foot so I could turn, but it didn’t work. I slammed into the wall.

It was not as funny as it sounds. Honestly, I feel sorry for those hockey players. Because ramming into the wall hurts. Denmark skated up to me (after falling onto the floor when he himself got to the turn), holding out his hand, but I smacked it away. No way was that idiot helping me. He stood up and offered his hand again, and this time I did take his hand. I also blinked back tears, because I didn’t ever want him to see me cry. He insisted that we go sit down, but I didn’t let him.

So we skated around the rink, hand-in-hand. Who cared what those homophobes thought.

After a couple of hours, Finland gathered us all up and we went to the food court to eat. Sealand jumped around at the indoor playground, bossing his little army of younger children around. Denmark went to get us all food, but when he slammed into the counter, Sweden didn’t let him carry any of it. When he got back, he slid into to booth next to me and held my hand under the table. I watched Iceland, who was sitting across from me, as he texted his little boyfriend every five seconds, it seemed. Really, Hong Kong texts crazy fast. I’m pretty sure in his head he was brooding over the fact that Hong Kong wasn’t here with us. Mainly because I didn’t allow it. The Korean song that pretty much everyone seems to know came on, and Denmark got up and danced with some of the teenage guys at the table across from us, but I dragged him back into the booth so he was forced to do the dance in his seat.

We all decided that we’d do this more often, maybe once monthly. Then we all left, and the whole ride home Denmark cuddled up to me. I don’t really remember anything after that, because I’m pretty positive I fell asleep in his lap.


	57. Chapter 57

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Remember how I used to say Sealand was alright? That he reminds me of myself when I was younger?

I take that back. I hate that demon spawn.

Sweden and Finland decided to go on a little vacation thing with just the two of them- like a second honeymoon (if they even had a first one). Naturally, since we’re just that amazing, the first people Finland trusted with babysitting their son for the week were the rest of us Nordics.

But the morning those lovebirds left, the only trace of Icey was a note on his dresser saying: “I’m spending the week at Hong Kong’s house. -Ice” I’m surprised Norway didn’t head over to Asia the moment he read that. He must’ve just been that eager to spend time with his big cuddly Dane.

I didn’t think watching after Sealand would be so bad; if Finny can do it, why can’t I? I mean, he’s probably got some maternity gene in his body, but Norge is feminine enough; I’ll bet he does too. So I’d just have to have the role of a daddy for the week.

You’d think Sealand was a dog, with the list of instructions Finland left us with. In fact, Hanatamago’s was real simple- brush her every two days, feed her at the same times we eat. She’s apparently smart enough to take care of everything else on her own. Sealand’s, on the other hand... I won’t even get into that. I could tell straight off this’d be a _long_ week.

I knew Sealand was rebellious. But I didn’t think he’d rebel against _me_. I put the cookie jar way up high, just like Finland said, yet I’d still find him munching away on a handful of snickerdoodles before dinnertime. He refused to eat his vegetables; I pretty much had to force feed him. He mouthed off to me with words I didn’t even know kids had in their vocabulary, and ran off to God only knows where just about every time his home school tutor showed up. That’s only the _beginning_ of the shit he pulled, too.

Norway’s role in all this? In short: a Sweden. Whenever Sealand REALLY crossed the line, which was pretty damn often, Norway would give him this _glare_ that’d put him right back in order. I was impressed... and also didn’t understand how in holy hell Finland could put up with this devil child.

That is, not until I crammed the brat into bed the night before Sweden and Finland came home.

I finally wrestled him into bed, convincing him with the bribe of letting Hanatamago sleep with him. I muttered “good night” to the monster and headed toward the door, ready to fuck Norway blind once Sealand fell asleep, when I heard him call after me in a sweet little tone I’d never heard him use before: “When are Mummy and Daddy coming home?”

I don’t know what it was, but there was just something about the innocence in his voice that made me change the way I thought about him. Maybe I was thinking too much into it, but at the time it really seemed like even though he always gave them a hard time and acted like he was above everything, Sealand really did care about his parents. I could just tell by the way he asked when they’d be home that he loved Sweden and Finland.

I smiled- not in a cocky way like usual- and told him they’d be back soon, then went back to my bedroom. Which is when I made sweet, _sweet_ love to Norway.

You know how you always have those big milestones in your life? Like when you realize what you wanna be when you grow up? Well. As cliche as it sounds, when Sealand asked when his parents would be home... That’s when I realized that I really truly like kids.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I’ve always hated Sealand. He’s always gotten on my nerves. But when Finland and Sweden left for a little romantic getaway for a whole week and stuck him with us, I pretty much wanted to scream. Especially since Iceland left a note the morning they left, saying that he was staying at Hong Kong’s for the week. So Denmark and I were stuck with the demon for the week. Which was not fun.

He would argue with us about everything possible; he would climb on the counters to get into the cookie jar, refuse to eat his vegetables, and would run away whenever his tutor would show up. He would mouth off to us (saying some things that I’m pretty sure he learned from hearing Denmark) and even hid from us when we told him to go take his bath. He acted like a three year old. And he was _twelve._ I don’t understand how Finland can put up with him.

Luckily he gets terrified and behaves when I glare at him.

On the night before Sweden and Finland came home, Denmark came into the room with this airy little smile on his face. He nearly tripped on Ringnes (then again, everyone does) and stumbled onto the bed. He then told me that he actually liked kids, then told me what had happened when he tucked Sealand into bed. Apparently he asked when “Mummy and Daddy” were coming home. He must really care about his parents...

That night, Denmark and I made love with each other. All I can say is that one day, if we decide to, I wouldn’t mind having kids.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	58. Chapter 58

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

If you can die of worry, I’m surprised I’m not dead.

So even awesome kings like me still have to do paperwork for their country. Unfortunately, mine had really piled up, so I had to dedicate an entire day to working through the damn stuff. That meant Norway was left to do the few chores I have, which is pretty much just walking Ringnes.

I would’ve left my paperwork unfinished, even if that meant putting my whole country in debt, if I had known how that was gonna end.

Norway came back from their walk looking like he’d seen a ghost. ...Okay, considering he talks to pixies, that probably wouldn’t affect him. So.... looking like he’d seen Iceland naked. I was taking a coffee break in the kitchen when he came back. I immediately asked what was wrong; it didn’t occur to me that he was holding onto a leash attached to just a collar. His voice was real choked, like he was about to cry, as he told me that Ringnes had slipped his collar, and ran off down the road before he could even realize it.

When the full realization of what had happened sunk in, I was madder than I can ever remember being. I _exploded_ on Norge. How could he not notice a bigass Great Dane getting away?  Why didn’t he put as much time and effort as possible into looking for him? What the hell was he doing that was more important than making sure our dog- our fucking _baby_ \- was okay? Norway pathetically tried to answer my questions, all except the last one. When I shouted that at his face, he just stared down at the ground, actually looking ashamed for once. I was too blinded by rage to feel bad.

I spent the rest of the day locked away in the office, scribbling away at my paperwork with shitty handwriting and probably lack of accuracy. I didn’t come down until it was an hour after dinner had been cleaned up. Since my mind was free to be on something besides paperwork, I was ready to throw a whole new round of guilt trips at Norge... until I found him, sitting in his armchair, sobbing into his hands. That’s right: Lukas Bondevik was sobbing like a little baby. No wonder nobody else was anywhere near the living room... Half of me desperately wanted to comfort my little lover boy, but I was still real upset myself, so I left him alone.

I was devastated and terrified and pissed all at the same time. I knew I wasn’t going to sleep a wink that night, especially since Norway fell asleep on the couch. I sat up for _hours,_ thinking about where the hell Ringnes could be and cursing myself for not going out to search for him.

It was about midnight when all my depressing thoughts were interrupted by a weird scratching from downstairs. I decided I needed to do something with my life and go investigate. You know I was out of it, since I didn’t even bring my ax. I mean, who the hell WAS I? Not Denmark. Anyway, I swung open the door.... and was knocked onto my ass by a big furry horse-type-canine.

You guessed it: Ringnes. My baby. He came home.

As you can guess, that was a reunion filled with laughter and happy whimpers and hugs and slobber. God only knows what that brat got into, cuz he looked like he rolled around in every puddle of mud in the country, but I couldn’t care less. My baby boy was back, and I could always hose him down later. I grabbed his leash off the wall, unclipped his collar, put it back around his neck, and led him into the living room.

Norway woke up to find both me and Ringnes sleeping on top of him. I can only imagine what he thought about that.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Denmark, as irresponsible as he is, was behind on his paperwork for his country. So he spent the day locked in the office, filling out forms and who knows what. When Ringnes trotted up to me and nudged my knee like he does when he wants to go out, I had to clip his leash on and take him on a short walk around the neighborhood.

It was fine, fun actually, until some really annoying pixies started bothering me. They weren’t even from around here; they were probably some of England’s. They kept flying circles around my head and commenting about how “feminine” I was or something. It was already too late when I realized that the weight on the other end of the leash. My eyes widened as I watched Ringnes, my _baby_ , run down the street. The pixies looked at each other like, “Crap.” then took off. I could feel my face paling, and I took off down the road after him. I must’ve called his name a million times, but he didn’t even turn back; just ran off with his tongue flapping in the wind. There was no point in chasing after him. Ringnes was gone.

All I could do was walk home and drag the leash behind me. How was I supposed to tell Denmark? He was going to kill me. Literally. Okay, maybe not. But he was going to injure me pretty badly.

At first it was fine. Denmark was all smiley and looked tired, but then he saw the leash was only attached to a collar with no dog. And he _exploded_ on me. He yelled profanities at me, making me feel even more guilty than I was before. This had happened once before, but that was before I was really in love with Denmark. And did it on purpose. But this was completely an accident, I swear. I had loved Ringnes like my own child, so to have Denmark yell at me and really point out that I had “screwed shit up” as he put it really made me feel terrible. And I really tried to answer all his questions, but he wouldn’t let me. He stormed off to the office for the rest of the day.

I really had screwed up. Seeing Denmark that angry had also messed with my emotions as well. As soon as he had stopped yelling, I walked into the living room and collapsed down into the armchair. Finland took one look at me, then dragged Sealand and Sweden out the door. Iceland sat there for a moment, then slid his book back onto the shelf and ran up to his room. They all must’ve known something was up. And that’s when I lost it. I broke down into tears, hugging my knees to my chest. It wasn’t my fault. If those fairies hadn’t messed with my head, then this never would’ve happened.

I must’ve cried for hours. I skipped dinner and didn’t bother to go upstairs for bed, so I fell asleep on the couch. At around midnight, I was woken by scratching at the front door. Okay, that kind of freaked me out. And usually I had Denmark to protect me from things like this. No later than I had thought that, I heard the stairs creak as someone came down. I buried my face in the couch pillow, watching with one eye open as Denmark slowly made his way to the door. He paused before opening it, the hesitantly turned the doorknob. My breath caught in my throat when he was knocked over by something furry and black. Then it hit me.

Ringnes was back. Denmark was grinning from ear to ear (and not in his usual cocky way) and scratching Ringnes behind the ears. He licked Denmark’s face, and if dogs could smile, he was. I closed my eyes when Denmark stood, not willing for him to see I was awake. I rolled over on my back, then smiled slightly when I felt Denmark crawl on top of me and Ringnes curl up on my feet. Denmark had buried his face in my chest, and the least I could do was hug him around the waist and let him sleep there.


	59. Chapter 59

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Norway’s immune system must be total shit. Remember a few entries ago when he was all sick? Well. He’s sick AGAIN. Keeps throwing up and having random dizzy spells and such. I, of course, had to jump in to care for him... But once again, he’s having none of that. Won’t take any of the pills I suggest he take, won’t let me cuddle him to get his mind off his nausea. Though, he _does_ listen to me every time I tell him to sit his ass down so he doesn’t faint. And yesterday, he kinda threw up. A bunch. So I’m glad I didn’t cuddle with him.

I really hope his damn stomach bug goes away real soon... Ever since he got it, he’s refused to have sex with me and sleeps with his back facing me. It’s only been 4 days, and I’m already slowly losing my mind. It’s like teenage hormones all over again.

****

  **Norway**

_Dear Diary,_

I must be jacked up or something. I’m sick again. And Denmark keeps trying to freaking cuddle with me or have sex with me. As if. And I’m not _that_ sick. I don’t need pills or anything. So all you people out there reading this? Shut up. Even though no one’s reading. I hope.


	60. Chapter 60

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Norway’s stomach bug wasn’t going away. It wasn’t getting worse, but it wasn’t getting better. I tried to make him go see a doctor, but he insisted it wasn’t that serious. So I instead made him Google his symptoms. I was hanging at Prussia’s when he did, so I wasn’t there to see his reaction, but I can imagine he was pretty damn shocked. I know I was when he told me.

When I came home, I was greeted by an overly happy Ringnes, as usual. I asked him where Norge was, having trained him to recognize our names, and he perked up his ears (which, by the way, are still floppy, since I refused to tape them so they stand up) and stared toward the bathroom, wagging his tail a little less ferociously. Grinning, mildly buzzed and ready to give my love a big ol’ bear hug, I paraded down the hall and swung open the bathroom door since it was unlocked.

Norge was leaning against the counter as if he’d fall over if he wasn’t, looking totally dazed. I thought he was having another one of his dizzy spells, and was ready to catch him if he fainted... but then I saw what he was staring at.

Remember waaaaaay back before I was dating Norge, and I pulled that lovely prank with all those pregnancy tests? Well. I guess nobody ever threw them all away. Because Norge was holding one, and the screen was displaying a tiny pink plus.

My mind turned to mush, and it wasn’t because of the half bottle of beer I’d drank at Prussia’s. Norway, my Norway, was holding a _positive pregnancy test._ And not one of the fake ones. Anyone with a brain could assume that that meant he was pregnant. Lukas Bondevik was having a baby. MY baby. _My_ child was growing inside of the love of my life.

A bazillion things to say popped into my head, but I couldn’t decide on one, so I just lunged forward and hugged him tight enough to almost knock the test out of his hand. I kissed him on the mouth, totally forgetting he often had morning system, with the biggest grin ever on my face. He didn’t even need to ask how I felt about this. He did, however, proceed to lecture me about what a huge responsibility & commitment this would be, how he’d kill me if I left him, that the baby would need proper raising, etc. I didn’t exactly take everything in, but I sure as hell was listening.

I have _no_ idea when Norge actually got pregnant, since we had sex at least twice every week since I took his virginity. When I dragged him to the doctor’s, though, we found out that he was a little more than 2 months gone.

Neither of us had ever thought to use condoms, cuz we were both negative for STDs and, y’know, _men_. But apparently, the way we age isn’t the only different thing about us nations: we also can get pregnant regardless of gender. Fun little fact right there.

Our fellow Nordics had similar reactions to when we told them we were dating: Iceland disappeared for at least 12 hours; Finland congratulated us all happy-like; Sealand laughed his ass off about how he knew Norway was a woman; Sweden had nothing to say.

I’m beginning to think Ringnes can understand what we say, because when I told _him_ , his eyes got all wide and he licked my face, his tail wagging a mile a minute. I remember exactly what I told him then: “That’s right, buddy. You’re not gonna be my only baby anymore.”

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Holy...I don’t even know what to say. It turns out that I wasn’t just randomly sick; no, I’m _pregnant._ I didn’t even think it was possible for men to get pregnant (though I’m pretty sure Finland can, as feminine as he is). But apparently gender doesn’t matter when you’re dealing with nations.

While Denmark was over at Prussia’s, I decided to find out if my sickness was what Google told me it was. I searched the bathroom and, surprise, found one of those old pregnancy tests that Denmark had planted around the place awhile back. So I used one (don’t even ask how I know how to) and...it turned up positive. That’s when I heard the front door open and footsteps coming my way. I remember _praying_ it wasn’t someone like Sweden or Sealand, but then mentally jumping for joy when I found it was Denmark. He took one look at the test, then hugged me with so much force that I stumbled back. The most I could do was hug him tightly and kiss him back when his lips pressed against mine. I then lectured him about how big of a responsibility this was going to be, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to accept the fact that we were having a baby together. When Denmark had dragged me to the doctor’s, we figured out that I was a little over two months along. Had it really been two whole months?

Remember when we told the rest of the Nordics we were dating, how they reacted? Well. Iceland had gotten really pale, then spent the rest of the day locked up in his room. He even skipped dinner. Finland was overjoyed, smiling more than ever and saying something about not being the only ones with a kid. Sweden just stared, expressionless as usual. He was probably cursing himself out in his head because he had to deal with demon spawns of Denmark. Sealand burst out into a fit of laughter, going on about how he knew I was a woman. I really didn’t have the energy to tell him that it didn’t matter what gender we nations were, as long as we did it. That and he just wasn’t old enough to learn that. The fairies took it as well as Sealand. I swear, one day I’ll kill them.

I had just sat there, watching Denmark rub Ringnes behind the ears. Grinning, he told him that I was having a baby. He must understand us, because Ringnes’s ears perked up and he licked Denmark’s face. Denmark had said to him, “That’s right, buddy. You’re not gonna be my only baby anymore.” And I’ll admit, that made me smile a little.


	61. Chapter 61

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So right about now, it’s the season of shopping and snowing and singing carols 24-7. That’s right: Christmastime.

Don’t ask what I’m getting Norway. Cuz I have no damn idea.

It’s been about a month since the last entry, and I’ve been freaking over this whole baby thing. According to the internet, Norge reached the point that he can’t have a miscarriage, so there’s no turning back now. Not that I’d wanna. I mean, hello, little Denmarks running around! HELL yes!

You know, I thought Norway would be way more concerned about this whole thing than me, but he’s his usual old apathetic self (just with a few weird cravings. Do you know what he put on his fish last night? _Frosting_. Like, GAG). He seems like he’s handling the whole no-sex-for-a-few-more-months thing better than me, but you never know, I bet he’s just hiding the fact that he’s a horny ol’ dog.

So anyway. I’ve made it my mission to treat Norway like the fucking princess he is. You’d think he’d be grateful, right? WRONG. He just keeps on acting like there’s not a god damn person inside of him. Do you know what I caught him doing? Do you? Of course you don’t, you’re just a journal. Well, I stumbled upon him outside, _helping Finland put up Christmas lights._

HELL no! I don’t really know my stuff, but it seems like stretching to reach the distance from the ladder to the roof could do damage to the baby. And what if that ladder falls? Norge can’t DIE, cuz he’s a nation, but he could still get pretty crippled. By the time I got him to come down (I can thank Ringnes for that- he kept barking up at him until he got such a headache that he HAD to come down), the whole house was lit up. ...I admit, it looked real damn pretty, but couldn’t Finland get some non-pregnant person to help him? Like uh, SWEDEN perhaps?

Ohh, wait, never mind. Sweden was busy making some type of contraption for Sealand’s present.

NO MATTER. I still had to scold Norway for putting himself at risk. That delightful little douche bag had the NERVE to just roll his eyes at me, remind me that he isn’t even showing yet (I dunno, he’s starting to look a _liiiiiiittle_ pudgy), and then he disappeared into the basement to freaking bring up boxes of Christmas tree ornaments. Yeah, and I’M the idiot. If he hurts himself or my baby, I swear I’ll kill him!

 

P.S. I’m real glad that the nation that tops doesn’t end up pregnant too. Because this Christmas, I’m gonna get _so_ wasted that I might just forget my name. :)

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Right about now is the time that us Nordics seem to celebrate the most; Christmas. See, Finland is huge about this holiday. He goes over-the-top with our decorations, including the Christmas tree. We have a huge one that if it was a foot taller, it’d hit the ceiling. Which is a problem, because the star could break from the pressure of the ceiling at any moment.

I figured I’d be nice. Sweden was off making some contraption for Sealand, Iceland was locked in his room again, and Denmark was doing who knows what. Finland was left alone outside to string up the Christmas lights. Which, believe me, is nearly impossible to do by yourself. So I grabbed a string of lights, climbed up the ladder, and started hanging the lights.

By the way, never do that when you’re pregnant and your boyfriend is crazy protective of the baby.

Denmark came outside, minding his own business, until he saw me up on the ladder. He nearly freaked on me (okay, he _did)_ and told me to get down immediately. His reason was that I could “harm the baby”. One, I’m not even showing yet. Two, I wasn’t going to fall or anything. The only reason I finally got down was because Ringnes kept barking and gave me a headache. However, I still wanted to help somehow. Unlike Brother Dearest. So I went down to the basement to get boxes of ornaments and decorations. Denmark still looked fairly worried, but he stopped yelling.

By the way. I should probably take that dart board that’s in the basement down. There’s no need for it anymore.


	62. Chapter 62

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Alright, so there’s been a slight change of plans on my part.

Scratch that, HUGE change of plans.

It’s weird. Every Christmas (sometimes Eve, sometimes Day), I’ve gone out with England or Prussia or America and got wasted outta my mind. But this year, I.... _I didn’t feel like it_. How freaking BIZARRE is that?! Mathias Køhler didn’t feel like getting drunk! It’s really scaring me... But there was just something... different about the atmosphere that made me wanna chill with my Nordics for the holiday. It was all like, _homey_ and sweet. Normally, that mushy type of shit’d make me gag and be even more eager to get out and get drunk, but this year it was kinda... comforting. So I cancelled on Prussia (who was all like “I’ll just hang out vith mein awesome lady friend _Hungary_ instead”) and just hung out with my fellow Nordics. It actually wasn’t so lame: we ate food (Finland made a crapload of ham, cookies, fish, rice pudding, and some crazy casserole thing) ‘n watched old Christmas movies ‘n told Christmas stories from our homes ‘n Finland taught Sealand some Finnish Christmas songs and it was pretty freaking adorable.

And Sweden served wine, so I got to get a _little_ buzzed. Just a little.

It’s hard to pinpoint which is the scariest part of the holiday: Sweden and Finland coming back from the saunas and being stuck with the images of what they did there; or exchanging presents. Because for some reason, the guys like, NEVER like what I give them! Except for Finny, who’d probably smile and thank me if I gave him a bag of dog crap.

While we’re talking about dogs, Ringnes was the easiest to buy for. I got him a new bone that could easily weigh 10 pounds, plus this plush Christmas tree with a squeaker in the middle and a ball shaped like an ornament. Sealand wasn’t too hard either. I just got him some new video game, and I think that got me on his good side. It’s weird, though... The kid LOVED it, yet Sweden kept glaring at me. ...Maybe I should’ve checked the rating. But anyway, Sealand was ranting about how he could play it in the “new fort Daddy built” him, so I see what Sve got the kid.

I almost got a book called “Marriage for Dummies” for Sweden, but decided I didn’t want my face rearranged so I just got him a new toolbox. I mean, the guy’s a carpenter. I think he liked it, but you can’t really tell with Sweden. I got Finny this HUGE book of baking tips and recipes that probably weighed as much as Sealand, and I’m pretty sure he was sincerely thankful. For Icey, I thought it’d be pretty damn hilarious to get him a box of condoms, but then I figured Norway would cut all ties with me and move halfway across the planet, so I settled for an Ebay gift card. He _is_ on there a lot.

This is where it was really tough. Norway. The guy was my boyfriend now, and he was the mother/father of my unborn child. I couldn’t just get him something cheap or cheesy. His present had to be well thought-out and sentimental. I was about ready to write up a little coupon for making me his personal slave when I was struck with inspiration.

Lemme set the scene for you. Sealand was sitting on Sweden’s lap, bouncing as he talked about his new video game, while Finland sat cuddled up to Sweden, pretending not to be terrified of the zombies on the game’s cover. Iceland was curled up in an armchair, smiling down at his cell phone like a lovestruck little high school girl. Ringnes was laying at my feet, chewing on his bone and thumping his tail against the ground. Norway was next to me on the loveseat, his ankles crossed and arms folded lightly over his chest. I’d had my arm wrapped around his shoulders, but after giving him a quick kiss on the cheek I got up to get his present. I sat back down next to him and gave ‘im his gift. It wasn’t all that big, and he just kinda gave me this look with a raised eyebrow and delicately undid the wrapping paper like a total girl. The box was pretty plain: just a white, flattish rectangle. I’m pretty sure I was holding my breath as Norge took off the lid.....

He didn’t look like the apathetic little creeper he normally does. His eyes got all wide, he lost his dainty little stance, and I think he blushed a bit. In the box was a couple layers of tissue paper I’d borrowed from Finland, serving as a cushion for the present: it was a hair clip. Totally ordinary and lame-sounding, right? Well I ain’t done. It looked exactly like the one Norge already had- same size, same cross shape- but this one was made out of silver. Real silver. And engraved in little goldish letters was: “ _Jeg vil altid elske dig.”_ Which means _“I will always love you”_ in Danish.

It was real quiet between the two of us as he just stared at it. That’s when it occurred to me that maybe he didn’t like it. “I was gonna put it in Norwegian, but then it’d have to be _‘alltid’_ and _‘deg’_ and those extra letters wouldn’t fit...” was my excuse. Oh, damn it, I probably screwed up. It was probably a lame-ass gift, making me a lame-ass _boyfriend..._

But then Norway grabbed my face and kissed me. Right in front of Sweden and his family, right in front of Iceland, right in front of Iceland’s _puffin_. And it wasn’t just a short little peck on the lips, either: he was there for 5, 10 seconds. And when he pulled back, he was still close enough for our noses to be touching. He murmured something that I couldn’t hear, and he sat back just so he could take out his normal hair clip and put in the new one.

So I guess I did a pretty damn good job. I was considering going drinking on Christmas day, but I decided, screw it. I stayed home with Norway, just cuddling and eating gingerbread cookies and regretting getting Ringnes a toy that squeaked. And you know what? This Christmas actually wasn’t so lame. Yeah, getting drunk off my rocker is always an awesome time, and I’m probably gonna swing by the bar after the holiday... But it ain’t a Christmasy thing to do, y’know? Besides: after I’m a daddy, it’s not like I can leave the kid with Norway on Christmas so I can go get _drunk._ I guess I gotta get used to this fluffy family feeling, at least during the holidays.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Usually, every Christmas we have sort of a schedule. Finland gets all excited and stays in the kitchen for hours just cooking; Sweden stays with him sometimes, but other than that he’s off in his workshop; Iceland stays locked up in his room, laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling; Denmark goes drinking with his annoying friends; I’m usually just floating around the house trying to find something to do. It wasn’t that special of a day until we all gathered around to open presents, but even _that_ wasn’t very special.

This year, however, we had a Sealand to add into the equation. And a lovesick teenager. Not to mention a puppy. And me, being pregnant. Joy, isn’t it.

So the whole schedule thing kind of crashed down around us this year. Denmark, surprisingly, canceled his plans with his friends _just so he could stay home with me_. I just love him sometimes, seriously. Finland stayed in his position as the housewife and locked himself in the kitchen. Sweden had Sealand duty, so he occupied himself with putting up with the demon child. Ringnes had actually made friends with Hanatamago, so those two had played around with each other for a bit. And Iceland...well. This was the most shocking. He actually stayed downstairs with the rest of us and _socialized._ That’s right. Little Brother was happy, smiling, and talking with us. What. The. Hell. I mean, yes. He was constantly typing away on his phone and actually chuckling at times, but STILL.

I sure hope Hong Kong wasn’t texting anything dirty to him. Otherwise he’s going to wake up with knives in his eyes one morning.

So since I can never decide on what to get anyone for Christmas, I just got Sealand some little Power Rangers toy (which he opened immediately. Then said something about playing his video game next...). Finland was easy, I just gave him a new ornament to put on the tree. I had no idea what to give anyone else, so I just gave them giftcards to whatever store they wanted (Iceland had gotten and Ebay card from Denmark. I now know what he’s spending all his money on).

Denmark...he was another story. I had no idea what to give him, so when I asked him what he wanted a few days ago, he said, “Nothing. Having you and our little baby is enough.” Gosh, he’s so mushy sometimes...So I took that to mean, “Can I at least have a kiss on Christmas?”

Which was perfect, because when he gave me my present...well, it caught me a little off guard. I sort of expected something cheesy from him, but I honestly wasn’t. The box was small and shaped like a rectangle, so it had to have been a gift card or something. But when I opened the lid...Yeah, it was most definitely not a card. My eyes widened and seriously, I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks.

Inside was a hairclip much like my own, but it was silver. Real silver, not just the cheap silver like the one I currently had clipped in my bangs. And when I looked closely, it had small golden letters engraved into it. It said, “ _Jeg vil altid elske dig_.”  Which means, “I will always love you” in Danish. Denmark really does go out of his way for me, sometimes...So I replaced my current clip with the new one.

And this is where the whole, “Give me a kiss” thing comes into the story. Without thinking, I grabbed him by the face and kissed him. I heard Iceland’s puffin do a wolf-whistle (which I don’t know how that’s possible, with him being a puffin and all. Then again, he can talk.). But everything around me sort of disappeared and I held his face there, pressing our lips together for what seemed like forever. After a few seconds, I pulled away so our noses were touching and muttered that I loved him. Everyone must have been staring, because I don’t think I’ve ever kissed him like that in front of everyone. But you know what? I didn’t care. It was Christmas, what the hell.


	63. Chapter 63

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So remember a while back, I said Norge quit his job at the convenience store? Maybe not, cuz I kinda just mentioned it. Well, at the time, it was only a letdown cuz I couldn’t pop into the store and see him in his adorably lame little apron, and try to help him with whatever job he was doing until he kicked me out, and go home with Norge-inflicted injuries cuz I tried to make a move on him in front of his co workers. But now, it’s different.

Us Nordics are all like bros, always got each other’s backs. When it comes to money, that’s still usually true. But I ain’t low enough to ask the guys to give us money so me ‘n Norge can run our family. We’re gonna have to pay for our awesome little demon spawn ourselves. Which we can’t do when we’re unemployed.

You know how I said in the last entry that I might swing by the bar after Christmas? Well, I did. But for a different reason than I expected.

See, I had called up America to see if he was available, but apparently he had a date with some chick he picked up at the mall. Hungary answered the phone when I called Prussia, saying he was already in a hangover. I tried England, but he said he was spending the day with his hubby. France. Never mentioned that those two are hitched, did I? And call me crazy, but I swear I heard a little girl in the background. It was probably on TV or something, though.

So long story short: I had nobody to go drinking with. But Norge was off in the forest for God-only-knows-what reason, and after being in the same room as Sealand for 5 minutes, a guy really wants a drink. So I moped on down to the bar anyway, only to see a sign on the doorway that I didn’t remember being there. I was about to bang my head against a wall, expecting it to say “CLOSED,” but then I actually read it: _“Now hiring.”_ As you can guess, I ran my ass right in  there.

Obviously, I’m a pretty frequent customer there. So frequent that I know all the employees on a first-name basis. Except this one creepy old guy I always see grumpily cleaning all the mugs with a rag, but lo and behold, he was the guy that left a job position available. I asked my pal behind the bar about it, and his face lit up like the freakin’ Northern Lights when I told him I was interested. He gave me the job, no questions asked, and told me to swing by the next day for more details.

So I did. And now I am officially a bartender; I start in a week. The guys there all like me enough, so if I do the job right I’ll be good ‘n employed when the baby comes. Now we’re not gonna have to dress the kid in rags or feed it dog food!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Now I didn’t necessarily enjoy the job I had at the convenience store, but at least it gave me a little money.But now that I quit it, I’m looking back at that and regretting it. Because now I’m pregnant. And we kind of need money to support our family. I got so annoyed with that fact that I went to go vent to the pixies, but they didn’t really listen. Whatever. I was used to that.

But then Denmark came home that same day and told me he had gotten a job at the nearest bar, the one he always goes to. Ah. Wonderful. Ladies and gentleman, my boyfriend. The _bartender_.

Not that I’m not grateful or anything.


	64. Chapter 64

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So you know my friend England. Iggy. Great Britain. Artie. Arthur Kirkland. He usually only puts up with me when we’re drunk, but hey, I like hanging out with him, even though he has a stick up his ass. I mean, have you seen the guy I’m in love with? (Not gonna mention the fact that he’s better friends with England than I am even though I knew him longer. I ain’t the jealous type.)

Now, you know what a damn gentleman England is. Always gotta be all proper and crap. So when he called me up (which he never does unless he wants to go drinking), inviting himself over my place, I was pretty confused. Isn’t it supposed to be rude to invite yourself to someone else’s house? Apparently he wanted to “talk.” With both me AND Norge.

This is the part that kinda pisses me off. Since him and Norway are all buddy-buddy, they actually contact each other through email and stuff. Like _friends_. Apparently, the day before England called me, Norway let the cat out of the bag and freakin’ told England that he was pregnant. He didn’t even wanna tell the other NORDICS, and he goes and tells my drinking buddy that he stole from me?! (not jealous, by the way.)

But whatever, I ain’t one to hold a grudge.

So England came over. Norway got him some tea- he had to take up the housewife role for the day, since Finland and his guys were having a “family day” together. I’ve seen England cry his eyes out over ex-boyfriends and one-night-stands with girls he barely even knew; I’ve seen England sing show tunes to an entire bar; I’ve seen England admit that he prefers it up the ass. But I’ve never seen him look so _nervous._

Then again, for the most part I’ve only seen him drunk.

You already knew that _I_ already know that England is married to France. I thought this was a pretty new deal; the guy doesn’t even wear a ring. I figured they got hitched like, a year or a few months ago, and he’s still shy about telling people. Well it turns out, that ain’t so.England has been married France for _years._ More than 3, actually.

Now I’m REALLY questioning how good of friends me and Iggy are.

But that’s just the beginning. Not only is he married... he’s also a mommy. Er, daddy. Either way, he has a daughter. A _4 year old_ daughter. He said he can count how many people know about her besides him and France on one hand. He showed me a picture of her in his wallet, and I was expecting her to be like, black or something; I thought they adopted. But no: the little cutie pie had a longer version of France’s hair, but there’s no doubt about it: she had the same exact eyes as England.

Anastasia Bonnefoy (England told us she represents the city of Paris) has 2 biological fathers.

I guess I kinda figured that me ‘n Norge couldn’t be the ONLY countries in the world in our little male-pregnancy situation. But I never woulda thought that we were actually friends with someone who went through it too.

I never realized until England came over that I was actually pretty damn scared that we’d mess this whole thing up. Yeah, the other Nordics could help, but Finland had _adopted_ his kid; he couldn’t really relate. When you look at it that way, we were pretty damn alone. I mean, did the countries’ special doctor know how to deliver babies? And Norway was a dude; how the hell would he HAVE the baby? But at least now I know that we’re not actually alone. This whole thing _can_ be done.

I mean, if a crazy British guy and creepy French pervert can do it, why can’t me and Norway?

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I don’t know what I was thinking, but one day when I was emailing England, I let it slip that I was pregnant. Woops.

I could tell Denmark was slightly pissed, because I wouldn’t even tell the other Nordics for the longest time. And after a day or so of having a conversation with England, I decided to tell him. Okay, I can understand how that’s angering. Apparently those two are friends, but I don’t see how England can put up with Denmark.

Anyway, the next day, England had called Denmark, inviting himself over. I thought that was at least a little out of character for him; isn’t inviting yourself over rude or something like that? He claimed that he wanted to talk to us about something important. When he came, I unfortunately had to take up the job of being the housewife for the day. I went to go get him some tea, and when I came back he had sat on the couch in front of us and started talking.

Okay, you all know that England and France are married. They’ve been married for a couple of years (even though England doesn’t wear his ring in public), but there was a small fact that they’ve been keeping from everyone. That they had a four year old daughter. Now this shocked me. When had they adopted? However, when England showed us a picture he kept in his wallet, that shocked me yet even more. This little girl looked like England in the face; she had his same green eyes. Her hair also fell in curls to her shoulders. There was no doubt that this girl was, well, _theirs._ It turns out that Denmark and I aren’t the only ones in this situation. Her name was Anastasia, and she represented the city of Paris, France. Now how come I didn’t know about her? Perhaps telling England I was pregnant actually made him think that he could trust us, and caused him to decide to tell us.

At least I’m not alone. Now that I learned a friend of mine actually went through the same thing we are, it just makes me feel a whole lot better about having this kid.


	65. Chapter 65

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Norge is starting to show.

Every time I bring that up, he just glares the hell outta me and tells me to shut up, but he never exactly denies it. I mean, it’s not like he can: he’s seriously got a little baby bump goin’ on. We’re gonna have to shop for maternity wear SOON. ...Or would it be _paternity_ wear? Eh, doesn’t matter. I think I might just give him some of my or Sve’s shirts to wear once he gets REALLY noticeable, cuz they’re too big for him. It’s really cute.

Anyway. When I woke up today, Norway was in a God awful mood. Like, worse than usual. I got all mushy and hugged him from behind ‘n asked what was wrong. He just gave off this aura of fricking MURDER and said we were out of Cheerios.

Ohhhh shit. You do NOT deal with a Norge that doesn’t have Cheerios. I can’t even imagine how much worse a _pregnant_ Norge is. I haven’t told him yet that he won’t be able to drink coffee when he’s farther along; that might be the death of us all.

So since I’m such a damn good boyfriend, I immediately offered to go to the store to get him more. I was gonna go by myself so he could stay home and rest, but he just grabbed a jacket and walked right outside. Well excuuuuuse me. Guess he doesn’t trust me to pick out his precious cereal.

I opened the door for him, and he didn’t thank me or _nothing._ What a little prick. Okay, I take that back. He deserves to be a little bitchy when he’s carrying the King of Scandinavia’s baby inside of him. The car ride wasn’t very long- 5 minutes, I’d say- and I was smiling the whole time while Norway just glared out the window. Too quiet for my tastes, but hey, if Norge is happy that’s all I care about.

The second I parked, I scrambled out of the car and ran to open Norway’s door. In my haste to be a gentleman, I guess I forgot it was winter, and slipped on the ice. I smashed my face right against the pavement, but my hand was still on the door handle so I did manage to let Norge out of the car. He still didn’t thank me, just climbed over me and told me to get up before my face freezes to the ground.

I’m not sure how much more of this super-bitchiness I can take. But I’m not gonna say it makes me love him any less.

I asked if he needed anything besides Cheerios, and he told me he was almost out of shampoo. I’m sure some of the other guys had shampoo he could borrow, but then he wouldn’t smell deliciously of vanilla! Like hell I was gonna kiss him if his hair smelled like Finland’s or something. He didn’t need anything else, so I started making toward the cereal aisle, when I realized it was halfway across the store: WAY too far away for a pregnant man to walk. “Norge, you stay RIGHT HERE. I’ma go get your stuff, okay?” He just narrowed his eyes at me, and if he started to object, I wouldn’t know cuz I was already running.

It would’ve taken at least a few minutes to get to the cereal aisle, but since I ran like my life depended on it- like _Norge’s_ life depended on it- I got there in 30 seconds flat. I was ‘bout to get _Frosted_ Cheerios, cuz that shit ain’t bad, but remembered Norge had weirdass taste buds and only eats the stupid plain kind. So I got 2 boxes of that. The shampoo aisle was right around the corner, and I knew exactly which shelf had the kind Norge used, so I figured I’d just grab a bottle while I was sprinting back to my love.

...It didn’t work out that way.

The aisle was empty, so running into people wasn’t a problem... But just like I hadn’t noticed the ice in the parking lot, I didn’t notice the wet floor sign. Did I grab a bottle of vanilla scented shampoo? Yup.... But I also went skidding while still reaching out, and knocked at least 4 shelves worth of bottles to the floor. And somewhere along the way, I dropped the bottle I’d gotten.

I think I might’ve passed out a little, cuz I opened my eyes and Norway was standing over me, giving me a classic look of “I can’t believe I’m dating you.” There was only 1 bottle left on the shelves- a vanilla one, too. Norway grabbed it, turned around, and said “Let’s go” before an employee could come kick us out.

Maybe I should’ve gotten a lotta cereal boxes and shampoo bottles, cuz I don’t think I’ll be allowed back in that store for a while...

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Every now and then, Denmark would mention my...I hate this phrase, baby bump. To be honest, it was kind of disgusting to think of that. I realized with absolute horror that eventually my shirts weren’t going to fit, so I just figured I could wear some of Denmark’s.

Just thinking about that put me in a bad mood, but when I went downstairs one morning and poured myself a bowl of Cheerios...nothing came out. We were completely out of my favorite cereal. Even worse, Denmark appeared out of nowhere and hugged me from behind, kissing my cheek and asking what was wrong. Okay, was he blind?! Any idiot could see that the box of the precious cereal was empty.

Something snapped in Denmark’s head, and he immediately offered to go to the store to get me some more. Thank god. I grabbed my jacket and walked right out the door, impatiently waiting for him to get outside. The most disturbing part was that the whole car ride, he was just smiling all happy-like and holding my hand while driving. I managed to ignore it and just glare out the window at the snow-covered ground.

As soon as the car stopped, Dane rushed out of the car and scurried to my side to open my door, as if I couldn’t do it myself just because I was pregnant or something. However, there was a huge patch of ice right where we happened to park. Right when he grabbed ahold of the door handle, he slipped and landed right on his face, the door flinging open. I gazed down at him for a moment, then stepped out and told him to get up before his face froze to the ground. His head perked up like a dog and he ran to my side (managing to not slip again), attempting to take hold of my hand again. Yeah, okay. Like I was doing that in public. He asked if I needed anything else, and I nodded and told him I needed more shampoo.

When we entered, Denmark’s smile faded as he looked down the aisles. He turned to me and said, “Norge, stay right there, and I’ll go get your stuff.” Did he think I couldn’t do it myself? Before I had the chance to respond, he dashed down the aisles to get my Cheerios. I sighed as he left, and I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. I swear, if anyone noticed I was pregnant...

After waiting for like, a minute, I finally had enough and decided to go and follow him.

...And unfortunately, I found him laying on the ground. Surrounded by thousands of bottles of shampoo. I stood over him, slowly shaking my head, and grabbed the one bottle that was left on the shelf. Ironically, it was the exact shampoo I needed. We then paid and got the hell out of there before the manager or something kicked us out.

Remind me to never go shopping with Denmark ever again.


	66. Chapter 66

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Sorry I’ve been neglecting you, Diary Dearest. I’ve been busy with Norge. Let me keep you updated, shall I?

He’s 7 months gone now. He has to wear my shirts now, and although he complains about it I caught him burying his face in one of them, practically cuddling it, when he was supposed to be getting dressed. He blushed and hit me when I said “Awww.”

Now, Norway has ALWAYS been grumpy. In my presence, at least. But the more time passes, the more whiny he gets. I swear, he’s like a.... Well, a pregnant woman. But WORSE. Because I’ve heard Norway complain a few times before, and let me tell you, it was annoying as hell. But now he’s complaining at least once every day, and if I didn’t love him with all my being I would punch him in the jaw.

“Dennnnnmarrrrrrk, Ringnes won’t stop barkinggggg.” “Dennnnnmarrrrrk, my coffee isn’t hot enooooough.” (he really shouldn’t be drinking that stuff, but he might curse me in my sleep if I tell him that.) “Dennnnmarrrk, I feel siiiiick.”  “Dennnnnnmarrrrrk, Sealand won’t shut uppppp.” WELL YOU KNOW WHAT NORGE, MAYBE _YOU_ SHOULD SHUT UP.

….I’m being a dick about this, I know. But he’s acting like a whiny little girl and it’s like hearing nails on a chalkboard. Still, I love him and I already love our baby, so I do every damn thing he asks. Including sticking my finger in his coffee to see if it’s hot enough, and going out in the forest and talking to the air- I mean, the forests’ magical creatures- to let them know Norway won’t be visiting very often.

There’s one complaint he has, though, that I actually kind of like: “Dennnnnmarrrrrrk, I’m loooooonely.” So I use that as a reason to abandon my chores and paperwork, and sit down with on the loveseat. He clings to me like a koala to a branch, like a preschooler to their mother, like a magnet to a piece of metal.... The point is, he gets all cuddly with me, which he would NEVER do before he got pregnant. He’s kind of like a kitten, and it’s adorable: I’ll wrap my arm around him, and he glares at my hand like he’s about to bite it. I kiss his forehead, and he recoils like I have the flu. I try to wrap both arms around him, and he smacks me upside the head. Hard. But while I’m “ow”ing, he buries his head back in my chest and sometimes falls asleep like that.

You know, I’m pretty proud of myself for putting up with Norway during this annoying-ass phase of his. He’s gotta be going through a lot in his head. I don’t let him do ANYTHING (he needs to be treated like a princess, if you ask me), so he might feel kind of useless. He’s a _pregnant dude;_ do you know how embarrassing that’s gotta be? He has to be in a lot of pain, and his hormones or WHATEVER pregnant male countries have are all outta whack... He deserves to act like a bitch.

 

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I hate this. I hate this all. I hate being pregnant, it’s annoying as hell. And Denmark doesn’t do _anything_   to help me, my god. It’s like he wants me to _die._ It’s like he wants me to sit in PAIN and suffer while carrying his freaking kid inside of me.

...Ew. Again, I hate this. It’s disgusting and painful and annoying and embarrassing and annoying and painful. Did I mention disgusting.

Also, Denmark’s taking advantage of me. He’ll cuddle me and his damn scent and touch is so soothing that it just makes me fall right asleep in his arms. He’s so annoying. At one point he tried to tell me that I couldn’t have coffee because it’ll hurt the baby, but I feel like that doesn’t matter to countries. So I strangled him. Which he deserved.

I swear, I feel like I’m too big at seven months. There’s this constant pain in my back which doesn’t help at all, so I’m always forced to sit down and just cuddle up to Denmark. And oh yeah. I have to wear his shirts now, too. And don’t tell anyone, but while I’m getting dressed I’ll hug the shirts close as if it were him. Because I just love him so much.

...Why can’t I just get this child out of me already.

Okay, I take all that back. Every word I just said. I wish I didn’t write in pen (I _still_ haven’t gotten around to getting pencils), because every complaint I just wrote would be erased. Denmark’s been such a sweet boyfriend...he’ll put his finger in my coffee to make sure it’s hot enough, and he’ll even go out into the forest to tell the pixies that I won’t be able to see them, so they’ll have to come to me if they wanted to talk. Dane’s been so good. I love him so much. Everything he’s done, everything he _does._..Even when he cuddles me, I just love it so much.

Oh my god, what am I saying.

...Now _that_ I don’t regret writing in pen.


	67. Chapter 67

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So one day, I was walking Ringnes, when I noticed this big empty piece of land. Well, it wasn’t really a big piece of land... But it felt too empty, like a house was supposed to be there. I just kinda shrugged it off and jogged back around the block to our house.

That was a long time ago. Before Norway was pregnant (or at least knew he was). Ever since we found out, somewhere in the back of my mind I’ve been thinking about us moving out with our little family. But where the hell would we go?

Then I remembered that empty piece of land. And how close it was to our current house. And how there’s a little path toward the back of it that leads to the forest where Norge’s magical friends lived. And I realized we have a carpenter in the family.

Ever since, Sweden and I have been working on building a nice little place for me, Norge, Ringnes, and our baby to live. Just us. Well, maybe Icey too, but I personally hoped he’d go elope with Hong Kong or something. But anyway, every day I tell Norge I’m taking Ringnes for a walk, and Sweden says he’s taking Hanatamago. Technically, we ain’t lying, cuz we take the dogs with us... But we tie them up nearby and work on chopping down wood (that’s my job) and building a house. Well, a cabin. But you get the point.

We finished building the structure itself a couple weeks ago, and got an electrician to wire everything (for a pretty good price; being a country really pays off) so we don’t have to live like cavemen. Sweden’s a pretty frequent customer at Ikea, so he picked out a bunch of nice pieces of furniture. I bought them, and we’ve been spending the last few days situating everything. I also managed to dismantle our bed and drive it over to the cabin, then rebuild it in our new room; lucky for me, Norge has been falling asleep on the couch so he didn’t notice.

Now, except for decorations, it’s totally done. So I went home and told Norway I had something to show him.

That must’ve really taken him off guard, cuz lately I haven’t even been letting him climb up the stairs. I wasn’t all that happy about him walking half a mile when he’s 8 months pregnant, but it was gonna be worth it. I was totally psyched when I presented him with our new house; he just stared at it blankly.

But then I told him it was _our_ new house.

It was a lot like when I gave him his Christmas present. He asked when I bought this house, and I was all like “Never. Sve and I _made_ it.” He asked when we were gonna move in, and I told him whenever he wanted, and we agreed we’d settle in after the baby was born.

I gave him a little tour of it, even though I really just wanted him to sit down before he broke himself. The place isn’t really anything compared to the Nordic house, but it’s all cozy and I think Norge liked that. I mean, he IS pretty feminine. And when he saw the nursery I’d spent an entire week on... he started to cry.

I think I done good.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Now I’d always been thinking what the hell we were supposed to do when the baby was born. Were we supposed to live in this same overcrowded house? No way. I didn’t want our baby to be raised in the same house as _Sealand._

Which is why it shocked me a little when Denmark had dragged me down the street to this huge log cabin. I admit, it looked rather nice. But what was the point in him bringing me here? I’m eight months pregnant, I was pretty much ready to fall over and collapse. He was so happy when we got there, but I didn’t see what he was so excited about. Then he told me...he told me that this was our cabin. Yup, that caught me off guard a little.

“When did you buy this?” I had said. His grin only grew wider and he told me that he never bought it; he and Sweden had built it and decorated it. So all this time, they had been building a house for me, Dane, and our baby...alright, that made me want to explode and just dance all over the place. But that’d be too out of character for me. That and I was carrying like five thousand extra pounds on me. We both agreed that we’d officially move in once the baby was born.

Denmark gave me a little tour of the house, and I’ll tell you now that it was absolutely wonderful. It was nice and cozy-feeling, and I know I could spend the rest of my life (which is literally forever) in this cabin.

What really got to me was the fact that he had decorated a little nursery. He told me he spent a whole week on it, which just made me break down and hug him tightly, sobbing pathetically.

 _Jeg elsker deg_ , you idiot Dane.


	68. Chapter 68

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Today was the craziest, stressfulest, amazingest, best day of my life.

Ever since Norge hit 9 months, I’ve been real panicky. His due date was like, SOON. And how the hell was he gonna have the kid, anyway? I asked England and he said he was given an operation, called an E section or something. That didn’t really reassure me. Then again, I doubt anything could, at this point.

The day started out pretty normal. Norway was cuddled up to me on the couch, trying to take a nap but failing cuz his back hurt so badly. He used to smack me every time I tried to massage him, but now he let me go ahead and rub his back. It was weird: he hadn’t complained all day, not with words at least. He’d moaned and groaned a lot, but didn’t ask for anything or even call me an idiot.

It was really freaking me out.

Of course, when Norway told me to take him to the hospital, every red flag and alarm I got went off in my head. I asked if he had gone into labor and he just glared at me, but I glanced into his eyes and could tell that he wasn’t actually pissed; he was downright terrified. So I helped him to the car, told Sve where we were going, and drove him to the hospital. It didn’t help that all I heard before I left was Ringnes whimpering like he was watching us march off to our deaths.

There’s only one doctor for us countries in every region, so it’s not like there was a wait to get Norway into a room. He was already squeezing all the circulation out of my hand, but then the doctor said he’d have to put him under, so I knew that couldn’t last very long. They put this weird mask thing on Norge’s mouth, and I made sure the last thing Norway saw before he drifted off to sleep was me trying to smile down at him, and telling him I loved him.

I tried to watch the operation, to make sure everything was going okay, but man, it was NASTY. I’d seen peoples’ heads get chopped off at guillotines with a smirk on my face, but this? This was nauseating. So instead I concentrated on Norway’s heart monitor and sleeping face. He was so beautiful when he was sleeping.....

Right when I thought I was gonna die of anxiety (I had a little heart attack every time Norway’s breathing slowed down even half a beat), I heard this God awful cry pierce the room. I looked up, and my jaw dropped. Let me tell you, nothing’s nastier than a brand-new born baby. It looked like something out of a horror film, all covered in blood and other stuff I don’t even want to name... But it was crying and flailing slightly; it was alive. And it was _my child_. At exactly 6:09, PM, I became a father.

I barely acknowledged the nurses saying “Here’s the first one” to the doctor. First one? The hell did that mean? Cuz it was our first child, maybe...? 10 minutes later, and I found out what they meant.

If only Norge hadn’t been a stubborn little bitch, and let me take him to get an ultrasound. Because then we would have learned that he was pregnant with _twins._

After both babies- crying equally as loudly, though at this point it was more reassuring than annoying- were all cleaned up, the doctor asked if I wanted to hold them, but I said I wanted to see them up close at the same time as Norway.

I don’t even know when Norge woke up; I wasn’t paying attention to time. But when he did, he looked so innocent, so angelic, and, when he really came through, so scared.  “Where’s my baby?” he’d asked all weak-like. I shook my head, unable to not smile.

 _“Babies_ , Lukas. With an s. You had twins.” His eyes widened, and he uttered something about that making sense then told me to help him sit up. I did, and two of the nurses immediately brought our now-quiet babies.

“Two healthy baby boys,” the doctor told us. It was only 4 words, but it changed my life. Norge’s refusal to get an ultrasound left us guessing, and I’d wanted a boy... But _two_ boys? I sure as hell didn’t see that coming.

Norway was still too weak to support any weight in his arms, so I held both of the little guys. “Copenhagen and Oslo, ja?” I whispered under my breath, just in case any of the nurses were oblivious humans. Norway nodded slowly. The twins were literally identical, from their size to the texture and color of their little tufts of hair (which was the same color as mine, by the way). The only way to tell them apart right now was that one was in a blue blanket, and the other was in a red one.

Norway weakly pointed at the one in the blue. “Oslo... Can his name be Espen?”

“Nah.” I grinned at him, and nodded. “How d’you feel about Axel for Copenhagen?” Norway murmured something about that being perfect, without ungluing his eyes from our new baby boys.

Copenhagen. Oslo. Axel Bondevik-Køhler. Espen Bondevik-Køhler. They were the best thing that could ever happen to us, and even though they barely even have personalities yet, I already love them to death. I have a lot more to say, but the twins just turned 8 hours old and I’m exhausted. Norway’s already asleep; I think I’ll join him. I’ll keep ya updated.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I don’t really have much strength to write, so this’ll be kind of short and succinct...

I had twins. Two lovely baby boys, Axel and Espen. Copenhagen and Oslo. And let me say now...They’re perfect.

_Takk, Danmark. Jeg elsker deg så mye._


	69. Chapter 69

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

We brought the boys home from the hospital today. They’re healthy, mellow little fellows and they’re not that fussy. The only problem is I keep getting them mixed up... Thank God Norge knows how to tell them apart. I let him dress them; we keep Copenhagen in the warm colored clothes and Oslo in the cool colors. We’re gonna move them into our cabin in a week.

There was one thing that I’d totally disregarded, but Norway seemed to be nervous about since his pregnancy started, and that would be Ringnes. I, personally, put full faith in that furry oaf. He’s a real softie, even at over 80 centimeters tall (and that’s just at the shoulders) and wouldn’t hurt nothin’. Norge likes to argue that just because he won’t hurt anything on purpose, he still doesn’t know his own strength. ...Which is true. He still tries to sit on my lap.

So as we drove home, Norway’s worry kinda leached itself onto me. I started picturing him looking at the twins as new chew toys, plus I even thought ahead to the future and imagined the little guys crawlin’ around, then Ringnes sitting on them by accident. Ringnes was my first baby (well, Mathias Junior actually was. But those memories are too painful), but Copenhagen and Oslo are my _actual_ babies. If they ended up squashed or eaten, well... I don’t think I could ever forgive that dog.

When we got home, Finny was there to greet us. He was ecstatic about seeing the babies, and thankfully Sealand was with his weird Micronation friends so he didn’t have to bother us. I told ‘im to have Sweden bring Ringnes to the front door, on his leash, cuz I knew that big mush felt like each day of being away from me is equivalent to a month. So he did, and I think I was starting to shake a little bit as I waited to hear him bounding toward us.

It takes the massive strength of a nation like Sweden to hold back Ringnes when he’s excited, yet even Sve was starting to lose his grip on the leash and collar when Ringnes saw us. I real quick handed Copenhagen to Norway and walked up to Ringnes. I let the guy lick and jump on me till I was drenched in slobber, probably bruised all over, and sure Ringnes’s tail was about to go flying off if he wagged it any faster. But he did eventually manage to get most of his excitement out of his system- at least enough for him to listen to me when I told him to sit and stay. Then I took Copenhagen- wait, no, it was Oslo-  from Norge, and walked up to Ringnes again all slow-like, talking to him quietly the whole time. I kneeled to his height, tellin’ him that this was one of his new baby brothers, and held Oslo out a teensy bit. I don’t even know when Norge had joined me with Copenhagen, but I guess he didn’t want it to feel like we were sacrificing Oslo.

I think we were both holding our breath when Ringnes noticed the twins. He hopped forward immediately, sniffing them... Another terror dawned on me as I realized the twins were so small, if Ringnes drooled on them, they could DROWN. I prayed to every god I believe in to let that dog keep his muzzle shut for once in his life.

….and I guess it worked. It was kinda hilarious, how when I presented Ringnes with a new toy or a bone or let him loose in the park and he found a rabbit, he’d pounce on that sucker and shake it around until his ears were probably ringing. Yet when he saw Oslo, his tail slowed down, and his whole body just relaxed. He nuzzled his nose against Oslo’s little bit o’ hair,then turned to do the same to Copenhagen (guess he didn’t want him to miss out on his share of affection). Both twins stirred slightly at his touch, and he looked up at me with those droopy eyes of his like he was saying “ _These_ are my little brothers, right?” I kinda grinned, really freaking relieved, and stood back up. I expected Ringnes to get back in that stance where I just know he’s thinking “THROW IT! THROW IT! THROW IT! I SWEAR I WILL BRING IT BACK! THROW IT!” But he didn’t: he tilted his head a bit, continued to stare up at me, and gave a little wag to his tail. I always knew he was a gentle giant!

He followed Norge and me around all day, until we put the twins in their temporary crib. When we did that... he laid down in front of it, ears perked permanently.

My favorite part is, whenever anyone ‘cept me or Norway so much as passed by, he growled at them and stood in front of the crib all protective-like.

Looks like he’s gonna be an awesome big bro.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Let me start by saying that walking without about eighty pounds on me can really make one feel like they’re floating. I’m just glad that all of that pain was over, because it feels amazing to be over with it. I mean, I’m still aching, but you get the point.

Anyway, today we brought the boys home. And honestly, I’ve never been so worried before. I didn’t even think for a moment that Ringnes might just be a danger to the babies. When we came into the house, Finland was crazy and extremely happy, while Sweden came to the front door holding Ringnes with the leash. Even though Sweden was a large and strong nation, he was still struggling against the weight and strength of Ringnes. His tail was wagging quickly, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. His ears perked up when he saw us, then he immediately pulled forward so Sweden lost his grip and attacked Denmark, coating him in a pleasant layer of great Dane saliva. After Denmark had gotten Ringnes to calm down, he carefully took Oslo from me and knelt in front of Ringnes. I joined him with Copenhagen, figuring that Ringnes should meet both of his new “siblings” at the same time.

At first, Ringnes didn’t notice we had brought the boys over. But as soon as he noticed, I tensed slightly and glanced at Denmark. However, Ringnes simply sniffed at the boys, nudged them both gently, and then looked up at Denmark with this look in his eyes that seemed to say, “And they’re mine?” Denmark exhaled, which told me he had held his breath that entire time. I smiled slightly-- _slightly_ \--and then followed Denmark as he stood, keeping fairly close to him. For some reason, I just felt the urge to stand as close as possible, because...I really did love him.

Off topic.

Ringnes followed us both around, and when we put the boys in their cribs, he laid down in front of them protectively, with his ears perked up like he was listening to every little thing. If Oslo whimpered or if Copenhagen moved his hand, he would get up and inspect them, then lay back down. If anyone other than me or Dane passed by, he’d growl at them until they got a good distance away. Honestly, I don’t know why I was so worried.

 

...On another topic, Brother Dearest and his little _boyfriend_ are getting a bit too serious for my comfort. Remember awhile ago, how I said that those two would always be texting each other? Now they’re actually talking on the phone. TALKING. Not texting, but talking. Now Iceland will roam around the house, barefoot, in a daze, and talking smoothly to Hong Kong. And they always hang up by saying, “I love you” to each other. I even had word that when they hang out, they’d kiss. Every. Five. Minutes. This is upsetting.

I am going to put security cameras in his room, and limit the minutes on his phone. 


	70. Chapter 70

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

We’re all moved into the cabin. I really like the whole homey feeling it has, and the lack of Sealands is nice. Ringnes loves having our own house, too (though he misses Hanatamago), and I think Norge likes the privacy. Then again, he might get kinda lonely ever since I took up the night and evening shifts at the bar... Eh, he has the boys, Ringnes, and his imaginary friends. He doesn’t need me.

Besides. The extra hours mean extra money, and I have quite the purpose for that dough.

Norway and I are super in love. We’ve been on dates. We’ve fucked so many times, I’m surprised we haven’t gone through an Ikea’s worth of beds. We have a dog and two sons together. Yet what are we? _Boyfriends._ Nothing more than that! It was more than past time for us to take our relationship to the next level.

So I worked my ass off cleaning the bar, drying out mugs, and dealing with drunk douche bags for 4 more hours than I was used to, until I earned up a ton of extra cash. When that happened, I called in sick for work and headed off to the store with my latest paycheck burning a hole in my pocket. Let me tell you, there was a ton of shit I could’ve blown it off on, but I had a mission in mind.

Nothing makes you feel like a man like browsing the jewelry counter. I didn’t really have a certain ring in mind; as long as it was shiny and not made of macaroni, I was sure Norge would love it. So I found one with a silver band to match his new hair clip, with a real-as-can-be diamond on it (it _better_ have been authentic, because that little fucker was EXPENSIVE). I just kinda chortled when the cashier told me my girlfriend was a real lucky woman, then paid and left before the girl started drooling over me. Sorry lady, but I’m a daddy. And gay.

What I came home to was actually really sweet. Norge was sitting cross-legged on the couch, the twins balanced in his lap with Ringnes laying at his feet. I aimed my brightest grin at him, and he just gave his usual tired glare. “You’re home early,” was all that little bastard said. I just pecked him on the lips, picking up Os- Copenhagen, kissing his nose, then doing the same to his brother. “I gotta talk to you. I’ll put the twins in their cribs,” I told Norge. He just raised an eyebrow at me while I rushed up the stairs, murmuring randomness to the twins till I lay them in the cribs.

When I came back, Norge was leaning against the arm of the loveseat, his arms crossed lightly. What a woman. I heard Ringnes barking in the backyard; Norge and I really were alone... My heart was practically leaping into my throat, I was so excited. ...not nervous, or anything. The King of Scandinavia doesn’t get nervous. After all, I’d spent the entire car ride home planning out the little speech I’d give before popping the question. I slapped my pockets to make sure the ring was actually in there, then took one of Norway’s hands in both of mine. He just raised his eyebrows.

“Norway. Norge. Lukas. We’ve been through Hell and back together. Our childhood, the viking age, that whole incident with the shipwreck, your pregnancy...” I then made the mistake of looking into Norway’s eyes. Those deep, violet orbs that gave so little away... But I knew him better than that. The hell was I doing, pouring my heart out.... Norge didn’t need to hear it. He knew exactly how I felt.

I gripped his hand tighter. “We both know how awesome I am. I’m the freaking King of Scandinavia!” He narrowed his eyes here; I could tell he wanted to hit me. “But...”

Alright, here we go. I slipped one hand off of Norge’s and into my pocket, wrapping it around the ring (I’d removed it from its box for the convenience). Slowly, I got down on one knee. Like a frickin’ magician, I placed my hand back on Norge’s, and when I moved it again, I had successfully slid the ring onto his finger. “....I’m absolutely nothing without my _Queen_ of Scandinavia.” Let me tell you, there was some emotion on Norway’s face right there. He obviously knew what I was asking, but I decided to be straightforward too: “Lukas Bondevik, will you marry me?”

I think we both know what his answer was.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Since the twins are a bit older now, we finally moved into our nice, secluded cabin. It’s quiet (well, as quiet as a place can be with a dog, two babies, and a Denmark), homey, warm, and...just plain nice. However, it is a bit lonely without Denmark home. He’s been taking up long work hours up at the bar since I don’t have a job and we have quite the family. Usually I’ll sit through most of the day taking care of the twins, then reading or talking to the pixies when the boys are asleep. But really, it isn’t the same without Mathias home. Often times I’ll sit on the couch by the window, gazing down the sidewalk as if I expect him to come home early so that he can sit down next to me, then wrap his arms around my shoulders and kiss my cheek like he used to.

Today, however, he did come home early. I was just sitting cross-legged on the couch with each of the boys balanced on my lap, watching them as they both poked each other’s faces, then proceeding to give each other a little baby high-five. Ringnes was at my feet, being protective of Oslo and Copenhagen as usual. I heard the door unlock, and Ringnes’s ears perked up. Denmark stepped in, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re home early.” I said, gazing up at him. He kissed me quickly, then took Copenhagen from my lap. He kissed him on the nose, then also took Oslo and did the same with him.

“I gotta talk to you.” He said. “I’ll put the twins in their cribs.” And with that he rushed up the stairs with the twins. I slowly stood up, leaning against the arm of the loveseat. I crossed my arms, sighing. This was suspicious. He was even acting strange. Stranger than usual.

He came back down, giving me this pleasant little smile. Denmark came up to me, lightly patted his pocket, then took my hands in his. I raised my eyebrows at this gesture. Was he really...?

 “Norway. Norge. Lukas. We’ve been through Hell and back together. Our childhood, the viking age, that whole incident with the shipwreck, your pregnancy...” He started. I paused, looking up into his bright blue eyes. The look he had in his eyes confirmed my suspicions. He was smiling even in his eyes, if that makes sense. He gripped my hand tighter, snapping me back into reality.

  “We both know how awesome I am. I’m the freaking King of Scandinavia!” I glared slightly at him. Uncalled for. “But...” He took one hand off of mine, slipping into his pocket. My heart rate sped up slightly, realizing that this really _was_ happening. He got down on one knee, placing his hand on mine again. I felt a thin band slide onto my ring finger. He paused, looking up at me. “I’m absolutely nothing without my _Queen_ of Scandinavia.” I felt the corners of my mouth tug up into the smallest of smiles. I knew what was coming.

“Lukas Bondevik, will you marry me?” ...The four words I’ve been waiting to hear.


	71. Chapter 71

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Being a married man sure is somethin’, I’ll tell ya. I mean, technically, nothing has changed between me and Norge. It’s not like we kiss and cuddle more than before, or have better sex (though the love we made on our wedding night was better than anything we’d ever experienced), or are better parents. It’s really just a status thing. I mean, you’d kinda expect two people that live together with a dog and two sons to be married, and now we are. I don’t mind my job of wiping down the counters at the bar anymore, ‘cause it gives me a clear view of my wedding ring and I smile every time I see it.

So anyway, we’re still not totally settled in; we still have some boxes to unpack. I had today off, so after putting the twins up for their naps and kissing Norway for a little bit in the kitchen, I decided to sort through one of ‘em. It looked like it was just full of papers that served no use anymore, so I was about ready to take it down to recycle, when a certain rectangular piece of paper with a picture of a mermaid on it caught my eye. I literally dropped everything and scrambled to hold that thing in my hand.

I knew exactly what it was before I even opened it. Years ago, when we still hadn’t quite aged past 18 or 19, a lot of nations decided it’d be cool to attend a human high school for a bit, see what it was like. Getting involved seemed to be a pretty good idea, and what better way to get involved than the school play? Lukie and I both auditioned for our school’s musical, which happened to be The Little Mermaid: a Danish story. My awesomeness wooed the directors, and even though I was a newbie, I got the lead of Prince Eric! Norge? Heh, poor guy’s projection was way too quiet, so he got stuck with stage crew.

I remember the night of the performance as clearly as the day my babies were born. I had been rehearsing all my lines with myself, humming all the songs under my breath, and hitting on the babe that played Ariel. I was ready! When Lukas, who I was just starting to get the hots for, walked up to me backstage, I was ready for anything that little jackass had to say. But whatever it was, I was pretty shocked to see he looked shy about it. Either it was the shitty backstage lighting, or he was blushing. “...Hey, Dane... Break a leg,”

I just kinda blinked at him. He usually said his bitter things directly to my face, with no expression, like he was commenting about the weather. He looked so EMBARASSED to be saying this! God damn it, he was so cute... I guess being surrounded by teenagers had made me _feel_ like a teenager, ‘cause my hormones seemed to be acting up. Lukas Bondevik was a babe, and I would do anything for him. “Well, sure! Which one?”

That cutesy little shy-guy demeanor Norge had goin’ on faded completely the second I said that. He looked at me like I was a moron, and at the time, I didn’t understand why.

Back to his poker-faced self, Lukas told me to break my _right_ leg. So I grinned and started looking around for something to break it with, eager to please that fine piece of man. But then I realized I wouldn’t be able to perform if I broke it now, and was about to tell Norge that I’d have to put it off, when he interrupted me with “It’s an expression, idiot.” When I got home (after an _amazing_ performance), I Googled what “break a leg” meant. Apparently, he was wishing me luck.... That put me in a good mood for a week or two. That’s why Norge had been so shy! ‘Cause he had something sweet to say to me!

I ran down the stairs to show him the script, all excited about the memories. He acted like he didn’t care at all, and just turned away.... But I could see him smile a tiny bit.

I was starting to feel pretty deep, after going back to those memories. Funny, how alllll those years ago, I had been willing to break my freaking leg just because Norway told me to. Nowadays, I’d still go to those lengths and farther, if it made my babe happy. Looks like our love started even earlier than I thought.... And just the whole memory of the musical made me think about stuff like some philosophical old man. It’s probably ‘cause I’m sitting in the nursery as I write this, waiting for the twins to wake up, but I started wondering if we’re gonna send the boys to a human school, eventually. Maybe they’ll audition for a play, too, and get good parts, just like their Far did. Or maybe they’ll be stage crew like their Mamma. I wonder if they’ll fit in better at a human school than we did... I bet they’ll make plenty of friends with our citizens. ...But shit, what if they fall in love with a human....?

Oh, God, I don’t like thinking ahead to the future. It’s crazy enough thinking back on the past.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I’ll get right to the point; last night I married the man of my dreams. Mathias had worn a black tuxedo, I a white. Underneath he wore his favorite red button-up shirt, and he insisted that I wore my white one with the blue stripes (and in the end, I gave in and _did_ wear that). I asked Iceland to be my Best Man, and get this: he actually accepted. His exact words were, “Normally, Brother, I wouldn’t care for something as ridiculous as your wedding with Dane...but sure.” My little brother...he’s so grown up. See, he really does care for me.

Finland took charge of the whole wedding, since he’s really good at planning parties and such. He was also in charge of the “bride”, which I guess me. Pretty much he just did a quick check over me before I walked out on the aisle, but I didn’t really pay much attention to the anticipation of getting married. In fact, I wasn’t nervous at all.

Then the doors opened. Any confidence I had left completely washed away. However, as quickly as it went away, it came back as soon as I saw Mathias standing at the altar, smiling softly at me. When the music started up, I walked slowly. Honestly, I couldn’t care less for this part and just wanted to get to him. So when his hand extended to mine, I took it in mine and stepped up next to him. The vows were long and complex, and I don’t even remember them...Except one line that stuck out to me that Mathias had said. “I’ve loved you for quite a number of centuries, so what’s a few more?”

When we exchanged rings, I really felt like that had promised us forever. But when the minister had said, “You may now kiss,” Mathias had already wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him, pressing his lips to mine. I moved my hands to his cheeks, and kissed him back. Because honestly, this is the only time I will allow him to kiss me in public, so why not make it good.

That night, after the reception, Mathias had dragged me off to our room and whispered to me, “You look so good in that suit, it makes me want to take it right off.” I glared at him, but still allowed him to make love to me...needless to say, it was one of the better nights.

The next day, Denmark came running down the stairs yelling my name and waving around a booklet. He showed it to me, excited, and I saw why. _The Little Mermaid._ It was his script from a few decades ago when we had gone to school, and he played Prince Eric. “Remember, Norge?! You actually told me to break a leg! And I didn’t know what that meant!” He said. I couldn’t help but smile. He really was stupid back then, wasn’t he?

Who am I kidding, he still is...


	72. Chapter 72

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Okay, so I’m gonna ask you to think WAY back in time. Like, back when Norge and I were had JUST started dating (damn, it’s so weird, thinking of us as _married..._ Really makes me feel old. ...Then again, I _am_ a few centuries old). I had taken Ringnes for a walk and crossed paths with some human named Brittney and her bodacious Great Dane, Pixie. Our doggies fell in love at first sight, the babe gave me her number and we agreed to breed them one day.

Turns out, that day is today.

We just got around to hanging things on the refrigerator: random little magnets, a calendar, some pictures. I was just about to open up the fridge and grab a nice cold beer when it struck me that something seemed to be missing amongst all those decorations. After staring at the door for a minute or two, it finally registered in my mind what wasn’t there. In the top right corner of the freezer door, where a picture from Norge and my’s wedding now hung, used to be that Brittney chick’s phone number. I glanced over at Ringnes, who was laying on the floor across the room, just chewing on a rawhide bone. He had long reached his full size, and damn was he a pretty boy... I think he deserved to be a daddy. Leaning against the fridge, I took out my phone and scrolled through to see if I’d saved Brittney’s number to my contact list. Thank the gods that I did.

The woman was a real ditz, it turned out. It took a brief description of my appearance and a full recollection of our meeting for her to remember who the hell I was. When it finally clicked in her head, she got all kinds of excited and started spitting out dates and times that we could meet up and have Ringnes and “Pixie,” well, do the deed. Later that day worked for both of us. I told her I’d have to talk it over with the wife (trying not to snicker too hard), and then I’d be on my way.

“The wife” was pretty hesitant with the ordeal. Said I was being brash, and that he wanted to meet the lady. I could’ve told him to get his panties out of a twist, that this was a good idea and I didn’t actually need his opinion, but he just looked so damn cute with fuzzy slippers on his feet and the twins sitting on his lap, Oslo chewing on the cuff of Norge’s sleeve while Copenhagen just sat there letting his hair be stroked. So I agreed to let him come with me and form a final opinion on whether or not he also wanted to breed Ringnes.

I think the guy must’ve known he was the subject of conversation, cuz he came lumbering into the room, plopping his bone in the kitchen doorway then trotting over to join us. The twins squealed in unison when Ringnes sat at Norway’s feet, and they both reached out to pat his muzzle and tug at his ears. That big ol’ softie sat there and let them do it, too, his tail wagging.

“See, Norge? He’ll make an awesome daddy,” I insisted, patting Ringnes on the back. Norge stared at me for a moment before uttering something about there being a difference between kids he lives with and puppies he’ll probably never see again.

But I think he warmed up to the idea.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Honestly, I find it kind of adorable that Denmark wanted to breed Ringnes. The not-adorable part was that it was with another “hot babe’s” dog. It made me a little uncomfortable to think that Denmark was paying attention to another girl, and quite possibly checking her out.

Anyway. So here I was, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking my morning coffee. Oslo was on one knee, sucking on my sleeve, and Copenhagen was on the other and snuggled up to my side, letting me stroke his hair and sucking on a pacifier. I swear, every single time I look at them, it made me fill with a little joy on the inside, knowing they were the perfect combination of me and my Denmark...

Speaking of Dane, the moment he came skipping through the door, he immediately told me his news about breeding the dogs. “Quit being brash”, I said. “I want to meet this woman.” He agreed after a moment of thought.

Oslo stopped his chewing on my sleeve and instead grabbed his brother’s hand, sticking the tiny fingers identical to his own in his mouth. Copenhagen turned to look up at me like, “Pappa, what’s he doing?” I patted his head and turned to see Ringnes had walked in, and that’s when Oslo dropped Copenhagen’s hand from his mouth, reaching out to pat Ringnes’s nose. Copenhagen did the same, but took Ringnes’s ear in his little fist. “See, Norge? He’ll make an awesome daddy.” I stared at him for a moment as he too reached out to pat Ringnes on the back.

“There’s a difference between the babies he lives with and babies he’ll never see again.” I muttered, bouncing the twins on my knees. In all honesty, I didn’t care what Denmark did with Ringnes and that other dog. As long as I didn’t have to deal with the puppies.


	73. Chapter 73

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

It worked!

That human chick called me up yesterday, said Pixie’s pregnant. Once again, I’m pretty positive Ringnes knows exactly what I say to him, cuz I told him he’s gonna be a daddy and I swear that dog has never looked so happy. I’m super psyched to see the pups... Maybe Norge’ll let me keep one. The boys would LOVE that, I bet.

Here’s the really wacky part. Remember how Norway talks to my buddy England like they’re total BFFs? Well, we were having a nice lazy family day on my day off from work. Ringnes had made it his personal goal to remove every single toy he owns from his toy basket and spread them across the house; I was lounging on the couch, Oslo chewing on a teething ring in my lap while watching me tickle Copenhagen on my chest; Norway was in his armchair, ankles crossed all girly-like and scrolling through his laptop. Sometimes, he’d glance up at me and I’d catch his eye and wink at him, then the tiny little smile on his face would fade and he’d blush ‘n scowl at his computer screen. He’s such a god damn cutie.

At one point when he glanced up, though, it wasn’t just to catch a glimpse of his sexy hubby playing with his adorable sons. He had this kinda shocked look on his face (yeah, _Norway_ was showing emotion) and didn’t look away when I grinned at him. “You’ll never guess what Arthur just told me.”

I think my grin faded there. Not like I was jealous or anything, Norway deserves buddies..... “What ‘e say,” It was probably a discovery of some new fairy species that I really didn’t give two shits about, but hey, might’s well humor him.

Let me tell you: even _I_ never would have guessed what he actually said.

Norway looked me straight in the face and said, “England’s pregnant.” Looks like Ringnes’s GF wasn’t the only one knocked up....

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Well. I did not see that coming.

It was a Saturday, and the whole family was lounging in the living room. Mathias had Axel on his lap, Espen next to him chewing on a teething ring, Ringnes at his feet. I was sitting in my armchair across the room, drinking coffee and scrolling through my emails. Nothing in particular stood out to me. The usual “How are you?” email from Finland, an old email from Romania (at one point we were friends; England, too), and a coupon email from the coffee shop around the corner. However, one particular email stuck out to me. “I Have News”, the title was. The email was from England. I raised my eyebrows slightly, leaning back into the chair to get more comfortable. I clicked to open it, glancing at who else the email was sent to. No one but me.

My eyes widened slightly as I read the text. “Norway, I have something to confess. And don’t laugh. Well, you see, I’m pregnant. I’ll get it out there.” The email ended just like that, with of course his signature of “Arthur Kirkland”. I stared at the screen, trying to process what I had just read. I looked up at Denmark, catching his eye. “You’ll never guess what Arthur just told me.”

“What ‘e say.” He kind of gave me this look like, “I don’t care”, but I resumed.

“England’s pregnant.”

We both sat in silence for a few minutes.

“ _What?”_

“Really. Look at this email from him.” Denmark flapped his hand.

“Nah, nah...I believe ya.” He couldn’t believe it either. Quite frankly, neither could I.

...Honestly, I’m just a little happy that I wasn’t the only man on earth to be pregnant.


	74. Chapter 74

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

So I haven’t mentioned. Ever since we moved into our cabin, Norway calls the other Nordics at least 5 times a day, checking up on Iceland. He texts the guy constantly, but I don’t think he ever responds. Maybe once in a blue moon. One time, when Norge was talking to Finland, he invited us over for dinner.... Big mistake, Finny. Norway seemed to take that as an invitation to come have dinner with them _whenever_. He’s more in it for Iceland than the food... He’s all over the kid every visit! On the bright side, Finland adores the boys and is REALLY damn good with the little cuties- after all, he _is_ pretty motherly. (on the other hand, Sealand thinks he’s the ‘awesome big brother type’ with the kids, when he really just scares the living shit outta them. They start freakin’ out halfway through a round of peekaboo with him)

Anyhoo, apparently, Norway tries to talk Iceland into moving in with us every time we go there. The conversation never gets very far, cuz Icey always storms off whenever Norge brings it up... But something must’ve gone right last night, when I was working late and Norge went with just the twins. I came home to a couple suitcases propped up against the wall, a puffin sleeping with its ugly head underneath its wing on the back of the sofa; and Icelandic music blaring from upstairs. Wonder what the hell Norway did to brainwash the kid into moving in?

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

All I can say is _: I did it._ I got Little Brother to move in with us. I don’t know how I did, but I finally convinced him. After about the fiftieth time asking, he finally said yes. Though, something was a little off when he said it. Like...he _wanted_ to. Something’s suspicious about that boy.


	75. Chapter 75

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Something’s been goin’ on with Icey... I mean, something is always wrong with him, the little weirdo. But something is _extra_ wrong with him lately. He’s always disappeared off to his room after meals, and that hasn’t changed now that he lives with us. But now he’ll either A) shovel down about half a serving of food and rush off upstairs, looking like he’s in freaking _tears,_ or B) eat reeeeal slowly, and linger afterwards, actually listening to our conversations as if he finds them INTERESTING.

He’s pretty bipolar about the boys, too. He’ll either glare at them like they’re little rats from Hell, or give them tiny smiles and cutesy waves. Now, they _adore_ their Uncle Ice, regardless of what his opinion on them is. They’re constantly trying to get all over him, and when he’s in the mood that he actually tolerates the guys, they’re in the best freakin’ mood. It’s actually really adorable. One time, when Iceland was in his weird happy mood, he actually pulled both of the twins (who were just crawlin’ around the floor) onto his lap, and bounced them there until all three of them fell asleep. It’s Norge’s phone wallpaper, now.

I kinda like this new side of Ice that keeps surfacing randomly. It’s cute. But I seriously wanna know what the hell is causing it.

****

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Okay, Little Brother is seriously scaring me. He must be ill or something, because....his moods are constantly fluctuating between his usual “I hate you all” and an odd “I love you all and we should all be best friends, LOL~!” mood. It’s cute, though. But I’m still complaining. He’s acting like a hormonal teenage girl, it’s just plain horrifying.

I mean, it was really adorable when the twins fell asleep on his lap when he was in one of his good moods (it’s my phone’s wallpaper; all my precious babies), but I just wish I knew why he was acting so odd. Maybe he finally realized that he should just suck it up and accept the fact he’s related to us.


	76. Chapter 76

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Icey’s missing.

It was a normal morning, at first. I woke up, bid a good-morning to my beautiful Norge, let Ringnes outside, and took the twins out of their cribs, and headed downstairs to make some coffee. But something was... off. There was  no oatmeal cooking in the kitchen, no Icelandic music playing from any room in the house. In fact, all I could hear was Mr. Puffin, throwing a hissy fit about how hungry he was. “Why didn’t Emil feed ya?” I asked him, throwing a fish at his stupid face to shut him up.

“The cocky little prick left me! Packed up his bags bright ‘n early this morning and _left,”_ he told me with a full beak.

Ohhh shit... Something tells me he wasn’t just going out to get some milk. ….How the hell is Norge gonna take this?!

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I can’t.

I’m dying.

Someone help me. Please.

 _Little Brother ran away_. I was sleeping in as usual, but then Denmark kinda came trotting back up the stairs. He was twiddling his thumbs nervously and poked my shoulder. I mentally cursed him and just groaned, telling him to get me coffee. He ignored me. “Hey, Nooooorge...” He had whispered. “Emil’s miiiiissing.” I snapped my head up, narrowing my eyes.

 _“What?!_ Don’t mess with me.”

“I’m not messin’ with you! I came downstairs and Mr. Puffin was throwin’ a fit cuz Icey didn’t feed him before he left! Then he told me somethin’ about him packing bags and just leaving, not even takin’ him with him.” I groaned and ran my hands through my hair, not even bothering to put my clip in. Instead I raced down the hall, throwing open the door to his room.

“I knew he was acting odd, this is not good...” His laptop, cell phone charger, and iPod were all missing. His brown jacket wasn’t on the hook. Not even his favorite shirt was in the closet. Several pairs of pants were missing, along with shirts. “What the _hell?!”_ I whipped around to face Puffin, who casually flew in like nothing was wrong. “Where did Brother Dearest go.”

“I dunno.” He ruffled his feathers. I shot a glare at him. I was going to cook him one day, I swear. I marched down the stairs to check every single room, and even called his cell phone several times. He never answered. I was going insane. If I didn’t find him, I might have to call the police or something.

Just as I was about to totally break down, I felt four little hands down on my shins. They then wrapped themselves around my legs, hugging me. I looked down to see my little boys staring up at me with the cutest little grins on their faces. Denmark came around from behind and hugged me, perching his chin on my shoulder. “Chill, Norge. He’ll be back. See, even the boys think you’re overreacting.” I nodded slowly, picking up Copenhagen. Denmark picked up Oslo, and we watched as the two waved to each other happily.

...I’m still not exactly calm about the situation, but it’s not like he’ll be back soon.


	77. Chapter 77

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

 

Well hello there, Diary! It’s been a while... A whole _three months,_ damn. We’ve been really busy lately... A lot has happened. Like, a LOT. So much that I never even had time to pick this baby up and jot down the day’s events, and even when I did have time, I was too tired to.

I’ll start with the good stuff. The boys are growing up a LOT. They’re toddling around on their own now, and Norge and I didn’t even teach them to walk: they learned by watching. Obviously they inherited their daddy’s smarts. Probably my favorite thing is that the little guys said their first words! I was kind of hoping they’d say “Far” first, or at least “Pappa.” But I can’t say I was disappointed: the first word I heard out of Copenhagen’s mouth (clear enough to be considered a word) was, translated from baby language, “Oslo;” in Oslo’s case, it was “Copey.” If that isn’t the cutest shit ever, nothing is.

More good stuff: Pixie had her puppies. _Ringnes’s_ puppies. He’s a daddy! 7 little Great Danes, all happy and healthy. Brittney invited me to go meet the little things with the family- including Ringnes. So Norge and I got the twins, hooked Ringnes up to his leash, and drove down to see the pups. They were so tiny, the lot of them... It’s hard to think _Great Danes_ used to be that size. They all look just like their mama, except for two of them. They were the spitting image of their far. All of them are just plain _precious._ I begged Norge to let us keep one... He said it would be too much, having two babies of our own and everything. On the bright side, Brittney kept two- one of them was a Mini Ringnes- and said we can visit anytime, let them bond with their daddy. I’m also gonna let the boys play with ‘em, they LOVE puppies.

Side note: Brittney believed me when I said Norge is my wife. Guess he’s really that feminine.

I’m sure a bunch of other stuff happened that kept me busy for so long... General stuff, really. Drunken nights out with the guys, paperwork, visiting with Finland’s family, working at the bar, lovin’ Norway... ….I’ve been trying to avoid mentioning it, but, now I bring you to the most important event.

Icey stopped by.

My poor Norge baby has been a mess these past three months. It’s not that he’s being apathetic, because he’s ALWAYS apathetic. So that’s nothing new. He just seems... Dead. Down. He would go entire days without saying ANYTHING, his eating habits got really bad, and he almost never puts the twins down unless they squirm out of his arms. One time, I caught him hugging the little guys against him, stroking their hair and sobbing. I wanted to comfort him so badly, but I knew he’d be humiliated, so I pretended I saw nothing.

I made up for it, though, after Iceland had been missing for a month, and Norway started having problems sleeping. He’d just lay there for hours without even closing his eyes. And every day, he’d have dark circles under his eyes that only got worse. Sometimes, he’d wake me up in the middle of the night with his crying. Turns out he was having real bad insomnia since Iceland ran away, and whenever he did manage to sleep, he’d have brutal nightmares about his little brother’s death. So every night, I’d take him into my arms (and he’s so done with life that he’d actually let me) and whisper soothingly to him until he fell asleep.My poor angel..... I swear, as soon as we find out that Iceland isn’t dead, I’m going to kill him.

Oh, that’s right, we DID find out he wasn’t dead. That’s kinda what I was getting to, huh?

The doorbell rang when I was playing some intense three-way pattycake with the boys. Norway was coming into the living room from making some coffee, so he was the one to answer the door. I thought nothing of it, figured it would just be a girl scout or something..... But then I heard Norway’s favorite coffee mug shatter to the ground. I immediately left the twins in Ringnes’s care and bolted off to my husband’s side.

“Little... Brother....” Norge barely managed to choke out the two words. I didn’t know what to look at first: the tears streaming down Norway’s horribly pale, sunken cheeks; Iceland’s Asian boyfriend standing on our porch, holding tightly onto Iceland’s arm to prevent him from escaping; or Iceland himself, suddenly back after disappearing for three months..... his stomach bulging noticeably even under his jacket.

I’ll... finish this later. I can hear Norway sobbing.

 

** Norway **

_Dear diary,_

So done. I miss my brother too much... need him.

Oh yeah. He's pregnant.

I fail as a Big Brother.

Please kill me.


	78. Chapter 78

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

 

Right, so, Icey’s visit.

It’s a good thing Hong Kong was holding onto his arm, cuz that kid was ready to GO. When Norge opened the door, his eyes got all wide and he tried to tug himself away. Norway reached out to him- either to hug him, or touch his face, or both- but he gave him this glare so ferocious that poor Norge just let his arms fall limp. “Where did you _go..._ Little Brother... Why...” he whispered.

“Because I’m so sick of you! You treat me like I’m a child, when I’ve been around long enough to be considered an adult! Yet you act like I’m a toddler, put all these restraints on me. I can’t handle it, Norway!” He turned away from Norge, trying to run off again. But Hong Kong kept him in place.

“Like, he came to my place, see. We ran away together.” He shrugged when Norway attempted a glare (but it came out so feeble, that it hardly looked like a glare at all). “No like, sense in denying it. But Emil hurt his foot on the way, poor baby. And then he like, started acting really sick, so I had to take care of him in _both_ ways. I’m totally not complaining, though.” He flashed Iceland this look of utter affection. It was really sweet.... I’m sure Norge thought otherwise. “His foot got better like, pretty quickly- it was only a sprain- but his stomach bug wasn’t going away. Stubborn little Ice wouldn’t even like, go see a doctor. I was really starting to panic, but then it like, clicked: ‘OMG, Icey is totally pregnant.’ So I made him take a test, and wow, he was. I like, dragged him to the doctors, and apparently it had been four months gone! Like, six, now,” he explained, his expression hardly changing throughout the entire story.

Norway teetered a little bit; he would have fallen over if I didn’t grab his arm. “And you’re.... keeping it....”

Iceland stopped burning a hole in the floor with his eyes. “Of course I am! It’s my and Kaoru’s-”

“Emil, you two are so young! This is your first relationship, you hardly-”

It really broke my heart that Iceland interrupted him here. As weak and desperate as his voice came out, that had still been the most words Norway had spoken in months. “I didn’t come here to hear you lecture me. That’s _why I ran away._ Hell, I’d still be long gone if Hong Kong didn’t insist you needed to know about this.” He motioned at his belly.

That was it. My heart broke and shattered into a million tiny pieces. Because Norway burst into tears, shaking like a terrified little girl. It was only instinct to wrap my arm around him and pull him against me, kissing his forehead..... Then in a sec, calm, supporting husband Denmark was gone, and enraged Denmark was in his place. “You absolute little _monster,”_ I growled. By my next sentence, I was shouting. “Do you see this? Do you see what you did to him?! He’s a _mess._ He hasn’t slept right in months, he’s starving himself, he’s neglecting our boys. You’re _killing him,_ just because you were too arrogant to at least answer one of his texts. He was worried sick about you! Literally! He thought you were DEAD.” I was so pissed that I didn’t even acknowledge that I had removed my arm from around Norge, and was reaching for Iceland’s neck.

“Dane, stop it!” Just the fact that Norway’s voice sounded so small and shaky and choked was enough to bring me back down to earth. I took a deep breath and resumed hugging Norway’s frail body against me, glaring at his piece of shit little brother.

“I know you refuse to believe it, but this guy is your _brother._ You hurt him way more than you know.”

I admit, I’m impressed: Iceland managed to match the intensity of my death glare and shoot it right back at me. “Good.” And then he finally managed to break free of his boyfriend’s grip, and ran off faster than a pregnant person should.

Hong Kong looked at us apologetically. As if most of this wasn’t his fault. “He’ll like, come around. We’re totally gonna need help with this baby... I’ll call you in like, a couple months. When the baby’s around.” Then he ran off after his knocked up little lover boy. Mr. Puffin flew out the door after him. Good riddance.

….I’m really terrified for Norway.... I honestly don’t think he’ll ever be the same again.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Right, maybe I can...write a little better than before...

Well, first off, Mathias pretty much flipped his shit at Emil for running away. And I didn’t even know Iceland was capable of it, but he defended himself with just as much force as Denmark when he yelled at him.

Little Brother had ran off to Hong Kong’s house. Apparently, on the way, he sprained his ankle. So, thankfully, Hong Kong helped him with that...and the only reason they were here today on my doorstep is because Hong Kong had forced Iceland to come, because he figured I needed to know about my future niece or nephew. But for some reason...hearing that made me just to die even more.

The only reason my brother was seeing me was because his boyfriend _forced_ him to...I snapped then, breaking down into complete tears. Mathias grabbed me and pulled me close, and that’s when he had started practically screaming at my brother, threatening to injure him or something. I couldn’t handle that, but my voice only came out shaky and hardly above a whisper. “Dane, stop it.”

He slowly wrapped his arms around me again, keeping his glare aimed at Iceland. “I know you refuse to believe it, but this guy is your _brother_!You hurt him _way_ more than you know!” ...What shattered my heart was Brother Dearest’s response.

“Good.” He said, then turned to run off. I heard Hong Kong say something, but I wasn’t exactly listening. I knew he left, because Denmark slammed the door shut, hugging me closer than before.

...I’m sorry, I can’t write anymore...


	79. Chapter 79

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Norway is starting to get around to being his old self. That little surprise visit really winded him.... But some good did come out of it: seeing the horrible state Iceland's absence put Norge in, Hong Kong was considerate enough to find his number in Icey's phone and texts Norway a summary of Iceland's condition at the end of each day. I hope Norway realizes that his little brother could've ended up with someone way worse... He's pretty lucky.

Some good news game a couple months later: England had his baby. He emailed Norway from the hospital (the two had kept in touch as always: Norway offered him support with the pregnancy, England gave him support for the Iceland situation). We left the boys with Sweden's family and headed down to meet the little bundle o' joy.

It's another girl, poor Artie. A pretty little baby representing England's capital. They named her Matilda Bonnefoy. She's got the _bluest_ eyes, just like how Paris's are super green. Oh, speaking of her, I met the kid for the first time. Damn, what a cutie! She'll be a huge babe when she's all growned up. She was so happy to be a big sis, it was adorable.... Made me wanna make the twins big brothers. ....heh.

So yeah, that was really cool. We decided London needs to hang with my boys sometime, since they're so close in age. Artie's such a softie, when it comes to this stuff. Parenthood's really gotten to him. .....to think: little Iceland's gonna be in the same boat in just a few months.

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

Not much to say today except that dear old Arthur had his baby...it was a precious little girl named Matilda, representing London City in Britain. I also got to see his eldest daughter, Paris. Goodness, she looked exactly like France, but with rather green eyes the color of Arthur’s.

...sometimes, I want to have another baby. But I think I’ll wait until...Little Brother has his...and when the boys are a little older. I think Mathias agrees.


	80. Chapter 80

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

Shit’s been going pretty well, lately. Norway is finally acting normal again. I should really show Hong Kong my gratitude... What do Asians like? Sushi? Pandas? Eh, a simple “thanks” should probably cover it.

Like I said, Norge is his mysterious little self again. Being the sweetest mommy to the boys, tossing a ball for Ringnes, talking to his pixies, complaining if his coffee is the wrong temperature, curling up in his armchair with some fairytale, letting me kiss and cuddle him... But there’s also been an edge of anxiety to him as the months pass by. I totally get why: from Hong Kong’s reports, it’s obvious that Iceland is getting super close to his due date, and is not happy about it. Hong Kong seems calm about the whole thing- excited, even. But from what I can tell, Iceland is sick and tired of being sick and tired, terrified of being a mother/father, insecure as all get out, and just wants this baby BORN.

Well, he got his wish.

Normally, the texts Hong Kong sends Norway (I read them all, by the way; Icey’s my baby brother-in-law, I gotta keep tabs on him) are at least two pages long. A lot of them are really repetitive- it almost looked like he just resends the same thing- but he always tries to be as descriptive as possible. Have I mentioned how lucky Norway is to have this guy as his little brother’s lover? But this time, when Norway received the text right on time at 9:00 PM, it was a simple, short instruction: “Come 2 the hospital”

Literally two minutes later, Norge had me in the driver’s seat with the boys in their carriers in the back, and we were headed off to the hospital nearest to Hong Kong’s place. Hong Kong eventually sent more details: room number, Iceland’s current state... It took a little over an hour and the twins had fallen asleep (after throwing a damn good hissy fit), but we finally arrived. Norge was in such a hurry that he pulled at the door handle before I even parked all the way, and rushed out the door without grabbing the boys. So, careful not to wake them, I gathered up Copenhagen and Oslo, asked the grouchy old lady behind the front desk which way room 311 was, and strode off in that direction.

….it was really sweet, what I walked in on. Norway was already there, seated on Iceland’s bedside, brushing Ice’s bangs back and pressing their foreheads together even though the look on Iceland’s face clearly said “Don’t fucking touch me, I don’t want you here.”

“...I didn’t want you to come,” Iceland mumbled. See, what I tell ya.

The boys were starting to wake up, so I was kinda distracted. All I know is that a little conversation occurred between Hong Kong and Norge- something about meeting his new nephew- and Iceland tried to argue, but the poor guy was too tired to.Things soon got quiet, and Norway just sat there stroking Iceland’s hand as Hong Kong slipped over to the other side of the room. He came back carrying a little bundle of blankets....

I haven’t seen a sweeter thing since my own boys were born. The baby had a messy head of light brown hair: a perfect combination of Iceland’s white-gray and Hong Kong’s dark brown. His skin was so pale, just like his mommy’s; actually, it almost looked closer to Norway’s complexion. He made a little whimper of protest, not happy with being taken out of his crib, and stared up at us with purple eyes too big for his face. Not that this was saying much... Damn was this kid tiny. I guess that comes from having two parents that’re so physically young.

Norge was so awestruck, the precious guy. He whispered all these questions, but Ice only answered two: “He represents Reykjavik. Kaoru wouldn’t have it any other way... His name is Adriel.” Aw, cute... But ya didn’t hear that from me.

“...may I hold him?” Norway’s tone revealed everything: he was relieved that his nephew was so healthy, he was overjoyed at seeing his little brother again, he was tired from the long and anxious car ride... and he was scared that Iceland would say no.

But Hong Kong was the one to answer. “Sure. Go like, right ahead.” He handed him over super gently, and Norge held him even more gently, like even the slightest touch would break the little guy.

“....he’s beautiful, Emil...” Iceland just responded with a “hm” noise.

Copenhagen and Oslo were now fully aware that it was past their bedtime and they had no idea where the HELL they were, so I took them out in the hall before they could get all fussy and startle the new baby. I bounced and tickled them in my lap for a few minutes before returning to the room; by the time I did, their cousin was already asleep, and their Uncle Ice was about to do the same. Norway stood hesitantly and was about to head out the door, when Iceland grabbed his hand in the middle of a yawn. He glanced up at Norge and whispered one thing before falling asleep: “....I really needed you, this whole time. I’m sorry.... Big Brother.”

The mixture of shock and adoration on Norway’s face was precious.

“He’s like, exhausted. He totally won’t remember this when he wakes up,” Hong Kong pointed out. Norway smiled- the most sincere smile I have ever seen him muster- and said, “It’s worth it.”

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I’ve been getting used to Little Brother not letting me see him. As the months go by, I can’t imagine how big he’s gotten, how his little baby is growing...Hong Kong sends me pages of texts every day, telling me exactly how Iceland is, and I do appreciate that. At one point he snuck a picture of Iceland eating some kind of cinnamon oatmeal with licorice...melted into the oatmeal, with a can of Coca Cola on the side with, to no shock, a licorice strand being used as the straw. How cute. 

Unfortunately, Iceland isn’t too content with being pregnant. By around the eighth month,the text updates became something that looked like he had just copied and pasted the previous ones, because all of them were about how Little Brother constantly complains about how much he hates his life and wants to get this hell over with. 

Nine months went by like nothing. Every day at 9:00, I would get text updates. But one day, the pages of texts I was expecting was short and simple: “Come 2 the hospital.” I jumped up from the armchair, dropping my book, then rushed to get the boys in their car seats. I had managed to get Mathias in the driver’s seat pretty quickly, so we were on our way within two minutes. The hour-long ride made me twitchy and anxious. Hong Kong continuously sent more texts: “Room 311”, “Hes like tired but okay”, and even a picture of the baby but I refused to open it. I wanted to see my new nephew myself.

When we got there, I was in such an odd state of mind that I got out of the car without even stopping to get the boys out. The car wasn’t even fully parked before I had flung open the door, walking as quickly as I could into the hospital. The rude woman at the desk had given me a judging look when I had asked which way his room was, but I ignored it and rushed the hell up there. I just wanted to see my brother.

When I got there, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever state Emil would be in. Kaoru opened the door, extending his arm into the room. “Like, enter.” He said. I nodded, the stress and anxiety of wanting to see my brother fading as soon as I saw him, nearly asleep, lying peacefully in the hospital bed. I sat in the chair next to the bed, brushing his hair out of his face and then gripping his hand.

“Brother Dearest...Emil...” I muttered. I really didn’t know what to say. After going so long without seeing him, this made me happier than anything. I pressed my forehead to his, despite the look on his face. I’m not sure when Denmark came in, but eventually he did.

“...I didn’t want you to come.” Iceland said under his breath. I shook my head, staring down at the precious boy that I had raised.

“You want to see your nephew, Norway?” Hong Kong whispered to me. I glanced up at him.

“Can I...?” He nodded simply, sliding his hands out of his pockets.

“Now come on, I-...” Iceland trailed off, not willing to argue. Hong Kong gave him a small smile, then slipped off to the corner of the room where the little crib was. The little bundle of blankets he picked up was a beautiful blue and white color, and he brought the boy over. He sat on the end of Iceland’s bed, holding him out slightly. My breath caught in my throat. He was so tiny, and so beautiful. He blinked slightly, his big violet eyes staring up at me. His hair was a light shade of brown, a little lighter than Kaoru’s was.

“When was he born?” I whispered. “What’s his name, what does he represent? How much did he weigh when he was born?” Maybe I was overdoing it on the questions. “When did he open his eyes?”

Iceland only answered two. “He represents Reykjavik. Kaoru wouldn’t have it any other way... His name is Adriel.”

“...may I hold him?” I knew Iceland would say no, I’ve come to know him good enough at this point to suspect that answer...

“Sure. Like, go right ahead.” Thank goodness Hong Kong was the one who answered. He handed him gently over to me, and I held him as lightly as I could. I felt like he was so small, he could break at any moment. It must’ve been the Asian genes in him, or perhaps the fact that both of them are only teenagers in appearance. He was very light, and certainly smaller than my own boys had been when they were born.

“He’s beautiful, Emil...” I said. And I meant it. He was the sweetest little boy, the perfect combination of both Kaoru and Emil. Behind me, the boys were getting fussy, so Denmark slipped out into the hallway to calm them down. “I must say, Kaoru....I had my doubts about you.” I said, gently rocking Reykjavik in my arms.

“Why would you have like, doubts?” I shrugged slightly.

“I didn’t want my Little Brother to have a boyfriend...he’s growing up and having babies before I know it.” Iceland rolled his eyes slightly, but Kaoru nodded in understanding.

“My old man said like, the same thing.” As expected from China...always living in the past. I noticed that Reykjavik was falling asleep, so I got up and gently placed the baby in his crib, wrapping the blankets all around him. I was heading towards the door when Denmark came back in carrying the sleeping twins. However, as I was leaving, Iceland gripped my hand from where he was laying.

“....I really needed you, this whole time. I’m sorry.... Big Brother.” He dozed off right at the end of the sentence, and I couldn’t help it. My heart melted into a pot of love or something cheesy like that, and I bent down and kissed my brother on the head.

“He’s like, exhausted. He totally won’t remember this when he wakes up,” Hong Kong said. I nodded, smiling softly.

“It’s worth it.”


	81. Chapter 81

** Denmark **

_Dear Diary,_

We swung by Hong Kong and Iceland’s place today. Recyavik- I mean, Reikjawik- no, Reykjavik (I swear, Iceland’s cities are all just keyboard smashes) is a whole two weeks old now. Where does the time go? He’s still a teensy tiny little thing, but I think he’s getting bigger already...

Obviously, Iceland wasn’t too eager to have company, but he’s sucking it up because whether he likes it or not, he needs his big brothers’ help with this whole parenting thing. I hear China’s lending a hand too, but he’s old, what does he know? Reykjavik needs to be raised by the young, hip parents. Well, hip parent and his husband-wife.

Naturally, we brought the twins with us on this visit. They’re suddenly rebelling against being held, the little shits: you can pick them up out of their car seats, but that’s about it. They’ve been able to run ‘round on their own for a while now, but all of a sudden they need to. Makes me feel like my baby boys are growing up too fast, like they don’t love their Far no more...... On the bright side, they sleep better at night now that they spend all day toddling around as fast as their chubby little legs can carry them.

Remember how much they love their Uncle Iceland? Ah, they were glad to see him. Second he walked in the room, sippin’ on some Coke, their faces lit up and they clung to his legs like little baby koalas. He scowled at them, but they gave him the hugest smiles. However, when Hong Kong walked in the room, carrying little baby Rekyaivk, it was as if they found a new life purpose. They looked at each other, looked up at Iceland, grinned, and toddled off to the couch that Hong Kong sat on then heaved themselves up on either side of him.

I swear, my boys are just too damn cute. Oslo grabbed a clump of Hong Kong’s hair and stared at it while Copenhagen squeezed himself under Hong Kong’s arm. They also poked at the corners of his eyes, probably wondering why the hell they were all squinty. Hong Kong just sat there and let them. He’s such a good mommy... Which, by the way, I have no doubt is his roll, even though Ice was the one to get pregnant. Hong Kong’s got the girlier build- I can easily see him carrying Raykyavik around balanced on his hip- plus he seems to be the one that’s all affectionate with the baby. Not to say Iceland doesn’t love Re- fuck it, Adriel... When we walked in, he was sitting at the table giving him his bottle and peppering him with little kisses. But he won’t let us talk about it.

“Do you guys see the baby? He’s like, cute, right?” Actually, the boys hadn’t seen the baby: they were too preoccupied with their Asian uncle. When they did notice him, though, they were totally awestruck. Adriel blinked at them with those big purple eyes o’ his, then started to stir and whimper a little. The boys exchanged a look like “Oh, shit, we broke it!” but then Adriel reached out with his wittle hands, and the boys grinned and both took one. Then they grinned up at Hong Kong, then me, as if to say “Look, Onkel! Look, Far! We made a friend!”

It was a real nice day. Nor helped Icey around the house a little bit but mostly just snuggled Adriel and gave Hong Kong some parenting tips, while the twins stayed glued to whoever was holding their baby cousin. We decided (well, more like Norway insisted, Hong Kong and I accepted, and Iceland tried to protest) that we’d stop by every week from now on.

...y’know, when I was watching the boys bond with their cousin, I started realizing how much they reminded me of Norge. Everyone says they’re tiny me’s, and hey, I can’t argue. They got my hair, my eye color, my grin, my hyperness... But when you spend every day with the guys, you start to notice other things too. Like their eyes. They’re blue as can be, but they’ve also got this like... pale vacancy, just like Norway’s do. They’re about as active as little boys can get, but at the same time, they’re kinda mellow. Quiet. They hardly whine or complain, they really just go with the flow. So in that aspect, they’re calm. Just like their mommy.

Damn, and I thought I couldn’t love them any more...

 

** Norway **

_Dear Diary,_

I’ve decided that I am going to be visiting Iceland at least once a week, every week. I can’t have him feeling helpless because he doesn’t know what to do with a baby.

But I don’t doubt him in the least....When Hong Kong had let us in, Iceland had a little smile on his face as he was cradling Reykjavik, feeding him through a bottle and kissing his little hands and forehead as the baby gazed around the room with his big purple eyes. He handed Reykjavik to Hong Kong when he informed him that we were there, immediately going to the fridge for a can of Coke. When the boys saw him, their little eyes widened and they rushed over to him, clinging to his legs and looking up at him with smiles on their faces. He gave them a look of exhaustion, sighing and patting their heads.

When Hong Kong had walked back in carrying the baby and sitting on the couch, the twins ditched their Uncle Icey and instead went to cuddle next to their Uncle Hong Kong. They pulled at his hair, prodded his face. Hong Kong had simply sat there and let them. When I glanced at Iceland, I saw the very faintest hint of a smile on his face as he shuffled over to sit in the chair next to the loveseat.

I sat on the arm of the chair next to him. “Is it all going okay, Little Brother?” He nodded slowly.

“He enjoys laying on my chest after drinking milk...kind of like he’s doing to Kaoru now.” I looked over to see that Hong Kong was cuddling Adriel to his chest, Adriel clenching Kaoru’s cotton shirt. I crossed my arms lightly.

“That’s called ‘tummy-time’. It’s a ridiculous name, but it’s important to keep doing so he can learn to lift his head.” Iceland let out a small “hm”. I paused, watching the twins pat Reykjavik’s head. “Axel and Espen were impatient when it came to tummy-time. They would end up sliding off.”

“Adriel’s done that once by accident.” He said.

“I remember you like, really freaked out.” Hong Kong piped in. A flustered blush crossed Iceland’s face and he muttered something under his breath.

“That just makes you a better mother!” Mathias grinned at him, but Iceland only returned the smile with a glare.

All in all, the day was nice. I got to snuggle the baby and help my little brother around the house since he’s been so busy lately. As much as he hates to admit it, I know Iceland needs me.


	82. Good-bye!

_Hello, sorry that we haven’t updated this in forever! I hate to say it, but we will not be continuing this series any longer. ~~I’ve fallen into sports anime hell, anyway.~~ We wrote this in our early stages of the legendary “Weeaboo Phase”, and our hearts are not into it any more. Plus, personally, I’ve kinda gotten over the idea of “mpreg”. It’s not cute. I’m so, so sorry. *bows* It makes me so sad to see this be over suddenly, too! We had a lot of future chapters planned, but I apologize, we cannot give them to you. If anyone would like to know what is going to happen just for your sanity’s sake, we can probably message you what our plans were. If you still want to keep up with us, you can follow us on Tumblr! I’m aoyaggis! Hooray self-promotion! Thank you all for the support you have given us._

I can pretty much repeat everything KiwiFruit07 said ~~except for the bit about mpreg because mpreg is still my guilty pleasure.~~ We do have many ideas left for this story, and there’s still a special place in our hearts for ~~_DenNor_~~  Hetalia… But we’ve decided it’s just time to move on from this fic, and most of the Hetalia fandom. I thank you all so much for your unwavering support over the years; it makes me quite emotional, really. ;w; I’m sorry you won’t get to read about Reykjavik, the twins, and Denmark and Norway’s daughter Faroe, but like KiwiFruit07 said, we can send you any details you’d like to know and answer any questions! Or, you can just leave it up to your own imagination what happens next. My Tumblr is makoto-touchmebana, so give me a follow and send me a message! I also have a DenNor one-shot planned, so stay in tune!

 

 _Now for the last and final time...Thank you for being with us for so very long._ Stay beautiful, my ducklings! It’s been fun. _I love you all very much, and as an old tradition….*gives you all turtles and a pat on the head* (and if you follow me on Tumblr you will get the privilege to be called my little strawberry cupcakes)._

_-KiwiFruit07_

-67OtakuGirl24X3

 

 


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